


Rising

by vampire_chunks



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Death, Fine- There's Also a Wee Bit of Fluff, Horror, Multi, Romance, Sensuality, Supernatural - Freeform, There's Also a Wee Bit of Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 92,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7490523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampire_chunks/pseuds/vampire_chunks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A terrifying encounter with death on the streets of Silas brings Laura to the edge of darkness, where a beautiful creature waits to consume her, both in body and in spirit.   </p><p>A dark re-imagining of the Carmilla series where all is not quite what it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Moonlight Sonata

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been years since I’ve tried my hand at “serious” fanfiction (and even longer since I’ve dabbled in horror) so please bear with me while I dust off the cobwebs from my keyboard and dive back into this nonsense. 
> 
> As a word of caution, this story will explore a darker, more sinister narrative to Laura and Carmilla’s romance. Those looking for a fluffy, more whimsical story may not want to tread any further. I’m also not the type of person that bothers with an endless list of tags containing every objectionable element that could potentially incite or offend the reader. Suffice it to say, there will be gratuitous violence mixed with seduction and character deaths. After all, Carmilla is a vampire, and that’s what vampires do best. 
> 
> Much thanks to the Salty Crocodile for betaing. You’re the best, my salty heart. xxx

The streets of Styria were never more beautiful than after a mid October rainstorm. There was something so calming about the scent of autumn’s arrival, the cadence of the wind as it rustled through the poplar trees lining the main thoroughfare. The moon had even emerged from behind the stormclouds, painting the scene with soft touches of light and milky blue silhouettes. Every building was cast in shadow, silent and dark with forgotten histories.

Laura walked at a leisurely pace along the misted streets, breathing in the scent of wet pavement and pines from the nearby forest. A slight chill from the earlier storm still lingered in the air, and she was glad she’d worn her warmer coat. It felt wonderful to be out on a night like this.

The raindrops shimmered and sparkled under the lamplights, and it reminded her of happier memories... specifically autumn days from her childhood back in Canada when her mother was still alive. She remembered walking the streets of Newfoundland, holding the hands of both of her parents, laughing and splashing in puddles on their way to the corner store for hot chocolate. The sweet remembrance made her heart ache in the most wonderful way possible, and she looked up at the sky, searching the heavens for her mother’s laughter. For her smile.

The world around her was perfectly silent. It was already well past midnight. While cities like Vienna might enjoy a more robust nightlife, Silas was something of a relic by comparison. It was the sort of sleepy setting that belonged in the pages of Grimm’s fairy-tales: surrounded by lakes, forests, and mountains as ancient as the stories themselves. It was a strange setting for a school as world-renown as Silas University, but Laura adored the relative seclusion that life at Silas afforded her. Her father was Canadian, and her mother was Austrian, so she’d inherited a love for the open countryside. The cold weather was as comforting as a blanket wrapped around her shoulders near the fireside.

She breathed in deeply before quickening her pace. Her apartment was about seven blocks away. Normally she would be home in bed at this hour on a Thursday night, but a last-minute get-together with family friends had curbed her initial plans for an early evening. They were passing through on their way to Salzburg and had insisted on seeing Laura while they were in town. Good food, good wine, and a few rounds of board games had lasted much longer than she’d anticipated. They’d offered to pay for her cab, of course, but Laura had cheerfully declined, and when she’d left the inn that night, she decided she would walk home instead. It wasn’t terribly far from her apartment, and the passing rainstorm was calling to her. The sound of her footsteps striking against the pavement carried her south in the direction of the Silas campus.

It was in that moment of quiet contemplation that she was startled by a noise up ahead: a sharp, metallic sound that echoed in the darkness of a nearby alleyway.

Laura stopped in the middle of the road. The noise had, of course, caught her interest. She thought she saw movement in the shadows beyond the lamplights and wondered if it was an animal scouring the waste bins. Another muffled sound accompanied a dull, heavy scraping, and Laura carefully and quietly stepped forward, moving with cautious purpose.

A small bottle of mace was attached to her keychain nestled in her right coat pocket. Her fingers sought the clasp on the leather sheath before carefully flipping it open. Laura wasn’t known for being a timid individual, even after years spent listening to endless lectures on personal safety from her father. She was far too bold and reckless, he had argued, and Laura would always disagree with him.

She wondered, though, as she walked on a little further, if her father hadn’t been right on this occasion. Walking alone, at night, on a deserted street in Styria? It probably wasn’t the smartest decision she’d ever made.

By now, however, she was fully channeling her inner Lois Lane as she glanced furtively around the corner, looking for any trace of man or creature.

The light from the streetlamps cut off near the alley’s entryway, leaving everything immersed in shadows. No one was there, and nothing was visible other than a few wooden crates stacked on top of each other.

Laura breathed out a sigh of relief she hadn’t realized that she’d been holding. She was just about to turn back when she spotted something black that was covering the alley floor.

Laura squinted. It was as if the blackness was pooling, spreading out from an unknown source. She brought out her keychain as she stepped into the darkness and turned on the flashlight fixed to it.

Blood. There was blood everywhere. It was splattered all over the walls of the surrounding buildings. A stream of gore was running down the pavement, and the beam of her flashlight followed it behind a crate where a hand lay twitching on the ground.

Her mouth fell open in a wordless scream. She took a step back in horror. But whatever strangled cry she’d worked up in the ensuing silence was immediately cut off when a hand clamped roughly over her mouth in a strong, vice-like grip.

Laura shrieked as the keys fell out of her hand. Suddenly, she was dragged back into the shadows.

“ _If you make one more sound, I’m going to kill you,”_ a voice muttered darkly in German.

Laura was completely frozen with terror. The voice that whispered low in her ear was calm, dispassionate, and deadly. It was not a man’s voice, which Laura might have been thankful for were it not for the fact that it still belonged to a murderer. Another hand was wrapped tightly around her neck as if the stranger had every intention of snapping it.

 _“Do you understand?”_ the woman whispered again.

Laura whimpered and nodded her head, not daring to do anything else.

The hands that held her were hot— practically searing— and the strength of her attacker was considerable. Laura’s back was pressed tightly against her assailant in a firm and forceful hold. Whatever defensive maneuvers she’d learned in over ten years of Krav Maga had completely flown out of the window the moment the stranger threatened to kill her. In its stead, an instinctual kind of fear took over that suggested this woman wasn’t to be trifled with. Call it  intuition— or pure and simple terror— but Laura wasn’t going to put up any resistance.

Her assailant pushed her further into the alley, and Laura moved along as best she could. As they passed by the crates where she’d caught sight of the hand twitching on the ground, her eyes glanced down to a rigid form lying in an unnatural, contorted position. She didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to trace the shape of a body with a broken neck in her mind. She shut her eyes tightly as tears came unbidden, threatening to spill at any moment.   

The pair kept moving towards a door near the back that Laura hadn’t noticed before. Her flashlight had shut off the moment it hit the pavement, and she could only discern a few shapes and shadows. They ascended a few steps, then the woman pushed the door in with her foot as it was already slightly ajar. They moved into the building swiftly and silently before her captor pushed the door shut again.

The room had a stale, almost familiar smell to it— like rotting wood and incense. They stood there pressed against a nearby wall where the only sound to penetrate the darkness was Laura’s frantic breathing. The woman seemed to be listening for something— or someone— on the other side of the door. Laura swallowed and felt a tear roll down her cheek. It caught on one of the fingers clamped to her mouth.

“ _Good_...” muttered the woman distractedly after a significant amount of time had passed. She seemed, however, to be speaking more to herself than she was to Laura. They were soon moving again through an open doorway, turning down a series of halls, both to the left and to the right. Laura found it incredibly disorienting as she had lost all sense of direction. She could barely see anything in the blackness surrounding her, but her captor wasn’t hindered by the darkness. It was as if they were ghosts, drifting quietly through the building with some sort of terrible purpose.

They came to a stop in a large, spacious room where moonlight spilled in from a stained-glass window. Laura was grateful to be able to see again, even if it was only the pale outlines of scattered inanimate objects. It looked as though they were inside of a church of some vague denomination. It was an older building with antiquated decôr that could easily have dated back to the 19th century.     

“ _You did well,_ ” said the woman in Laura’s ear, and she had to suppress a shudder. The hand at her throat moved down ever so slightly to rest more comfortably on her collarbone. _”Do you think if I moved my hand away from your mouth, you’d be a good girl and keep quiet for me?”_

Laura quickly nodded in the affirmative, hoping to convey her willingness to comply.

“ _Good. If you continue to do_ exactly _what I tell you to do, you’ll get out of this alive. Do we understand each other?”_

Another nod was given in response. The hand slipped carefully away from Laura’s mouth and moved down to grasp her arm.

Laura let out a ragged breath as she attempted to get her breathing under control. Her mind was racing with the same frantic energy as the blood that pumped rapidly through her veins. If she screamed now, she wasn’t sure who would hear her, and then there was the matter of the hand still near her throat. It suddenly occurred to her that her phone was in her pocket, and she subtly lifted her hand towards it, hoping she could successfully press the buttons for 1-3-3 to call the police.

Her attacker seemed to be two steps ahead of her as she casually reached in and grabbed it herself. “ _You won’t be needing this,”_ said the woman nonchalantly, as if Laura hadn’t been contemplating a betrayal. The phone disappeared with a turn of the woman’s wrist—an impressive sleight-of-hand on her captor’s part. Laura also happened to notice there was blood on the woman’s hand, and guessed it must now be all over her coat. The thought was sickening for all kinds of reasons that she really didn’t want to consider, though blood on her clothing was the least of her problems at this particular point in time.

The woman reached forward and opened a door that was sitting to the left of the room’s entrance. Laura watched it slowly creak open, revealing a narrow staircase that looked like it led straight down to hell.

The blood quickly drained from Laura’s face as a new kind of terror took hold of her.

“ _Ladies first_ ,” said the woman darkly as she gently pushed Laura forward.

But Laura stiffened and started pressing back to distance herself from the stairs as much as possible. “No, please...” Laura cried in a strangled whimper, thoughtlessly breaking her silence. She failed to realize that she’d spoken the words in English. All she could focus on was the staircase. Raw fear was threatening to kill her before the woman even had the chance. 

Her assailant seemed to pause for a moment before she pushed her forward again. “Sweetheart, we don’t have time for this,” she muttered with no small trace of annoyance. The woman’s English was as flawless as her German, and she made the transition without skipping a beat. “I thought we both agreed that you were going to do exactly what I told you to?"

But Laura couldn’t stop her body from shaking as she pushed back frantically against her captor. “I can’t,” she whimpered. “ _I_ _can’t go down there_.” Just the sight of it brought back every sickening memory she had tried to suppress for years.  

The woman was obviously losing her patience. “ _You’ll be fine._ There’s nothing to fear down there. The _real_ danger is waiting behind you.”

Laura could only shake her head as hot tears ran down her face. She couldn’t do it. Her body refused. The numbness was starting to set in. “Please,” she sobbed, “I’ll do anything you ask! Just... please don’t make me go down there. _Please..._ ”

The words sounded so small and pathetic in the context of the situation. Laura had been dragged from the scene of a grisly murder, yet _this_ was the moment her body had chosen to have a full-on panic attack.

A moment of uneasy silence followed her sad, desperate pleas. Was the woman going to snap her neck or just push her down the staircase? This wasn’t how Laura had pictured her death: trapped between a killer and the basement of a church. Her body started to violently shiver as cold dread took over her senses.

 _Just make it quick. Don’t let it be painful. Don’t force me down into the darkness..._  

She flinched when her attacker gently gripped her arms, but the gesture was more calming than menacing.

“Breathe,” the woman whispered softly, and Laura did her best to comply. But every shallow intake of air was difficult when she couldn’t stop crying. She heard her captor sigh deeply behind her, possibly in anger or resignation.

“Close your eyes,” the woman whispered low in Laura’s ear. “Don’t open them until I tell you to.”

Laura closed them, trembling helplessly, unsure of what was going to follow. She felt the woman shifting behind her, then suddenly, Laura was lifted off the ground. A strong arm wrapped around her waist while the other settled under her knees. Her hands reflexively grasped onto the woman holding her, and her fingers clawed deep into a leather coat.

“You’re alright,” the woman whispered calmly, and Laura suddenly realized just how close they were. Her face was right beside the woman’s jaw-line, and her head was resting against her shoulder. Her hands held Laura in an easy grip, and Laura could feel the heat of her skin through the heavy fabric of her coat. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she caught the faint scent of blood on the woman’s collar.

Suddenly, they were moving again, and Laura could feel the horrid sensation of their descent to the basement down below. Her hands slid anxiously around the woman’s neck to stop herself from completely falling apart. The scent of blood filled her nostrils again, and it was making her sick to her stomach. She was trying desperately to steady her heart-rate while keeping her eyes tight shut.

But the hands around her tightened as well, which eased some of the tension in Laura’s body. Remarkably, Laura was unable to hear anything apart from her own erratic breathing. No trace of the woman’s footfalls could be heard, nor the sound of the wood creaking beneath their weight. The stranger moved with all the stealth of a cat, carrying Laura as if she were perfectly weightless.

It seemed, in that moment, that Laura was incapable of comprehending that she was embracing a killer. There was only the stairs. The stairs and the darkness that waited to swallow her whole.

The musty smell of damp wood and mold suddenly greeted Laura’s nostrils. She realized, quite abruptly, that the stairs had ended and they’d made their way down to the basement. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified as her body continued to tremble. The air was too thick, and unnamed horrors still waited in the recesses of the dark.

Her assailant hadn’t spoken a word, nor did she give any indication that it was time for Laura to get back on her feet. She simply carried her, gliding swiftly and purposefully through an endless series of passageways. Laura pressed her face more closely into her captor’s neck and tried not to think about forgotten memories that bled into fractured nightmares.

Several doors were opened, then shut. They continued through the darkness without stopping. Laura was starting to feel somewhat calmer, and she managed to find her voice again.

“Where are you taking me?” she whispered quietly, terrified at the thought of being left down here alone.

“‘Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife…’” the woman replied. There was a curious hint of humor in her voice that Laura wasn’t quite sure what to make of.

Laura’s response was soft and spoken absently just under her breath: _“‘Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray_ _along the cool sequester'd vale of life_ _…’”_

There was no way to be certain, as her eyes were still closed, but she could have sworn she felt the woman smirking at her. Laura’s fingers tightened on her jacket. “I don’t… I don’t want to die here.”

“How fortunate,” the woman dryly responded. “I don’t want to die here either.”

Laura was confused. Who was following them? Was it the police? Or someone else? She suddenly remembered the blood on the woman’s hand and wondered what had happened back in the alleyway.

“Your hand is hurt,” said Laura stupidly.

“The blood isn’t mine.”

Laura swallowed.

They pressed on for the remainder of their journey in silence, which Laura was understandably grateful for.

In the timeless minutes that followed, she thought she caught a slight change of pressure in the air. It felt lighter— less dense with the smell of dampness and cold, rotted earth. They were moving towards the surface, away from the terrible blackness and whatever horrors her imagination had thought to conjure in them.

She could see the moonlight behind her eyelids and felt a cool breeze hit her face. A sense of relief quickly flooded through her as she whispered a prayer of thanks to the heavens.

They came to a stop, and Laura was placed on the ground with surprising gentleness and care. She immediately felt the loss of heat and wasn’t sure if she was more grateful or disappointed for it. They must have been standing in a wide, open space, as the wind ghosted in from an unknown source. Thunder sounded softly in the distance; the rainstorm seemed to have returned.

The woman shifted close behind her, and Laura held her breath. Her eyes were still closed, but she was more than acutely aware of the fingers that brushed down her neck.

Her pulse was racing. The cold fear from earlier had taken on a curiously different form. She silently wondered if she was brave enough to turn around and confront her captor face-to-face. It was wholly possible that the woman’s anonymity was the only thing keeping Laura alive, but something had changed between them in the darkness that Laura couldn’t begin to define.

“Thanks for the company, cutie,” the woman whispered, leaning close to Laura’s ear again. “You’d better hurry home before the sun comes up. It’s not safe to go walking after midnight.”

She felt the woman slowly pull away from her as warm fingers slipped from her throat.

Laura’s eyes flew open in an instant and she quickly turned around.

There was no trace of her captor. The room was empty: as silent as the grave, to coin a phrase. She was standing in a loft filled with stacks of old paintings and broken waxwork sculptures.

Laura was lost. How on earth did they get here? Where was the church? How far had the woman carried her in the dark?

A flash of lightening lit up the room. Laura looked up to an open window where a cool breeze blew in from the passing storm.


	2. An Impression

The soft sounds of raindrops tapping against the windows mingled together with the click of Laura’s computer keys. It had been raining all weekend, varying between downpours to these light, hazy afternoon showers. It was already Sunday, though Laura was having difficulty keeping track of the hours that passed. She hadn’t left her apartment since Friday morning, nor had she spoken to anyone.

Her laptop whirred as the screen lit up with another article from a local news source: _“Four Bodies Recovered Inside Highstreet Cathedral— Suspected Homicide.”_  

She rubbed a hand over the back of her neck where some stiffness had started to set in. She was stretched out on the couch in her small living room, buried beneath a pile of blankets. It wasn’t terribly cold inside of her apartment, but the blankets offered some much needed comfort. She clicked a link to see a photo of the church in a vain attempt to place it within her memory.

It was a dark, gothic-looking structure revealing nothing of the horrors hidden within. Police reported that three of the four bodies were discovered inside of a storage room where Laura had actually hidden with the killer.

She stretched her neck and felt a satisfying crack that eased some of the tension out of her shoulders. Her nightmares were blending too easily into the waking world, and the only thing keeping her grounded were her headaches. She’d been searching countless websites over the last forty-eight hours of her self-imposed seclusion. The initial shock of discovering there had been _four_ dead bodies had faded into a kind of disaffected numbness. She clicked another link that led to a video filmed several blocks from the crime scene:

_“...The bodies of the victims have yet to be identified as police continue their investigations...”_

She closed the video and shut down her laptop. It was starting to overheat. She carefully slid it off of her lap and placed it on the coffee table. Her head fell back against the couch cushions as her eyes slowly drifted shut.

None of it was right. The facts were completely distorted. They weren’t even _close_ to the truth.

Was this what the journalistic process was really like— where every media outlet spun the details with their own suppositions and biases? Sources were already linking the murders to terrorist groups involved with the migrant crisis. It made Laura’s skin crawl—but not because it challenged whatever aspirations she’d had about becoming a journalist.

No. It was their profile of the murderer (or “murderers”) based on a mountain of false assumptions.

The media had largely supposed that there were two or more persons involved in the Highstreet chapel killings. It was impossible to consider that a single person could have done it, let alone the hand of a slender female. How else could the police account for “severe spinal injuries” and “multiple lacerations to the throat?”

She rubbed her fingers over her eyes as she started to lean forward again.

She should have gone to the police. She should have told them everything. Why had she chosen to stay silent? It was a conversation she’d been having with herself over and over again, and she was no better at answering it now than she was in the beginning.

She’d considered calling her father, but that would have put an end to her Austrian education as fast as he could board a flight to Styria. The only reason he’d even consented to let her apply here was because she had so many relatives in close proximity. She loved her father, but the man had issues when it came to his daughter’s safety. He struggled when strangers would ask her for directions; he couldn’t possibly handle death threats from a murderer.

She had desperately, _desperately_ wanted to call Danny, but that wouldn’t have gone over well. She would have lost her mind for over a hundred different reasons, and Laura couldn’t handle her girlfriend’s anxieties any better than she could handle her own. Laura was in no state to offer anyone reassurance, and she didn’t want to hear the inevitable lecture Danny would give her on the wisdom of walking alone at midnight. She really loved Danny, but sometimes it was difficult for Laura to express her independence— especially when it felt like Laura’s independence was synonymous with disappointing her girlfriend. So she let the blankets and cookies comfort her instead of the warmth of Danny’s arms. It wasn’t the healthiest solution by a long stretch, but it didn’t involve a lot of lengthy apologies.

There was a darker truth to all of this, however, that Laura was still trying to distance herself from: the possibility that her silence was motivated by something other than horror or a fear of the unknown. The strange disconnect she had felt since that night was a maddening, confusing thing, and she wondered how it was possible to feel so conflicted about her terrifying ordeal.  

She stared out of the window and watched as the rain trickled down in tiny, silver streams. A slim pair of hands fixed hotly in her mind— tightening around the skin on her throat like the cord of a hangman’s noose. And yet, she also remembered how they’d pressed against her while Laura quietly shivered in the dark. The two images were a conundrum to her… a mystery she didn’t know if she wanted to solve. It would have been so easy for the woman to have killed her; so why was Laura still alive? Why had she calmed her, held her, and carried her safely away from the darkness?

She couldn’t remember how she’d made it home that night. The loft she’d been abandoned in was a fair distance away from the chapel. Laura failed to divine the purpose of the passage connecting the two, but it had likely been built before most of the city was founded. What labyrinths existed below the Silas streets, and how did her assailant know them so intimately? It was one of a hundred questions that had plagued her during the last two nights of restless sleep.

She _had_ made it home, though, even managing to access the spare key hidden on top of her doorframe—a rather impressive feat, all things considered, since Laura was only 5’2. Her bloody coat was stuffed in a trash bag where she wouldn’t have to see it. She’d scrubbed the rest of the blood off of her body when she’d stepped into the shower that night. Sleep didn’t come until just before dawn, and she had absolutely no intention of attending her classes. All she had wanted was to shut out the world and regain some semblance of her sanity.  

The clock on the wall was showing 12:45pm. Laura decided it was time to get up and seek out some form of nourishment. She hadn’t been taking the greatest care of herself lately as evidenced by the current state of her appearance. She was now on day three of wearing her favorite gray sweatpants and a loose, off-the-shoulder sweatshirt. She felt pretty disgusting, but it was also kind of cathartic to be unwashed and unkempt all weekend. Her hair was up in a haphazard bun and her bra was nowhere to be found. A few cookie crumbs were still stuck to her shirt and she absently brushed them off.    

Maybe she should head down to the the park for a brief run after lunch. The rain had been fairly light all morning, and she was starting to get claustrophobic. A little perspiration would also give her the incentive to take a shower and become civilized again. Unfortunately, that would require a fresh change of clothes and she really, _really_ liked these sweatpants.

She opened her fridge in search of food that would pair well with grape soda. She grabbed an apple and a few slices of cheese when her landline suddenly started ringing. She shut the fridge with a hint of resignation as she set her food down on the counter. The only calls she ever got to this number were from local businesses and extended relatives who kept mistaking it for her mobile phone.

She picked up the handset and brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hello there, cutie.”

Laura felt her heart constrict.

It wasn’t possible.

It wasn’t.

“...Hello?” she murmured, more quietly than before. “Who is this?”

“Who do you _think_ it is, sweetheart?”

Laura’s entire body went rigid. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as the blood turned to ice in her veins.

It was the voice. _Her_ voice. She would have been able to recognize it anywhere. Dark, suggestive, and playfully menacing.

“Have you already forgotten me?” the woman continued lightly. “And I was so sure I’d made an impression.”

Laura was silent. Her pulse was racing. She brought a hand up against the wall to steady herself. How had the woman found her? Why was she calling her? Laura quickly glanced over at the phone’s caller ID screen.

She blinked as she heard a gentle laugh on the line. “Recognized the number yet? I should hope so. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to call you on your cell phone since you were gracious enough to leave it with me at the church. And forgive my impertinence, but I honestly didn’t believe that there were people who still used flip-phones these days.”

The words registered vaguely in Laura’s mind, but it was impossible for her to comprehend them. She could feel the dull pounding of her heart as she pressed herself further against the wall. “Why are you calling me?” Laura breathed.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I’ve missed you?”

Laura had no response to this. There was another gentle laugh on the line. “What can I say, cutie; you’ve been on my mind. A pretty girl will do that to me. But I’m honestly concerned about your present state of health since we parted so abruptly Thursday night. How are you feeling?“

Laura’s throat had suddenly gone dry. “I’m... I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You sound a little distressed right now. I’d feel terrible if I was the cause for it.”

Her words had a silky quality to them that Laura was just starting to pick up on.

"No. Really. I’m fine. Thank you.” She wondered if she should hang up the phone.

“Perhaps I sense a restless desire for something more engaging than the monotony of a Sunday afternoon. Are you bored, cutie? I know I am. Why don’t you come and have a drink with me? I’ll return your phone and you can tell me all of the exciting details of life at Silas University.”

A sudden chill crept slowly up her spine. “How… How did—”

“Oh please. A charming young Canadian living in Silas who has an acute knowledge of eighteenth century poetry? It wasn’t difficult. But I admit I’m rather curious as to why you chose Silas instead of attending a university in Canada. It can’t be for the weather, though I’m inclined to think you’re the type who favors the vast, open outdoors.”

Laura’s hand unconsciously moved to press against her throat. “I’m not Canadian,” she said quietly.

“Oh really? Well. I’m shocked. Did you grow up in Canada, or have you spent some considerable time living in the eastern provinces? I have something of an ear for accents, though I readily admit I’m not as well-versed when it comes to Canadian dialects.”

Laura considered how best to respond to the question. “Half of my family are Canadian.”

“A touch of the north to brighten the skies of our lonely Austrian hills.” She could almost hear the woman smirking, which confused her further still. “So… Are you a fan of the romantic period? They’re presenting the works of Mahler down at the concert hall tonight. You could join me for a little light refreshment and we could have a proper introduction.”   

Laura had no blessed clue what to think of this. “I’m... sorry. I can’t tonight.”

“More’s the pity,” the woman sighed. “Some other time, perhaps. Take care then, cutie. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon if time allows for it. Oh, and I know the weather has been dreary, but you should _really_ get out of your apartment. Staying trapped inside all weekend isn’t good for your health. Bye.”         

She heard a click as the call was disconnected, then the hum of the dial tone. Laura placed the phone back on the wall.

A trembling hand reached up to her temple as she stared blankly at the ground.

 _She knew where she lived_. She’d been watching her all this time. Was she watching her apartment right now? Laura glanced over at her living room windows as her stomach suddenly turned to lead. Rain was still tapping softly against the glass while the stormclouds drifted by.

Oh hell. _Oh hell_. She’d followed her home. She had followed Laura home that night.

Laura  ran over and frantically pulled her blinds down, blocking the light from getting in. She moved quickly into her bedroom, tripping on one of her textbooks before fumbling with the drapes and pulling them shut. Her front door was still thankfully bolted when she thought to run in and check the locks. Her hand combed roughly over her scalp as she headed into the kitchen to grab a cooking knife.

Laura’s heart was beating too fast. She needed to calm down. She needed to focus. She started to pace her living room, back and forth, clutching the knife tightly in her hand. _Call the police, Laura. Call them now. She knows where you live… She knows everything..._

Laura looked down at the knife in her hand as if she’d only just realized she was carrying it. An intense feeling of nausea welled up in her stomach, and she dropped the knife like it had burned her. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to _deal_ with this. How had this even happened to her? What on earth did this woman want? Was she toying with her for her own sick amusement and to what point or purpose?

She turned to her bookcase and reached up to grab the bracelet that was draped over her mother’s picture. Her fingers moved absently over the little gemstones as if they were rosary beads.

Danny. She needed Danny. But as soon as the thought occurred to her, something more horrifying took its place: Danny was in her phone’s contacts list along with every other person she loved and cared about.    

Laura rushed over and grabbed her phone without even stopping to think. She started pressing the numbers for Danny’s cell phone as she paced back and forth in her entryway. When Laura finally heard the dial tone, she pressed her back against the wall and slid down to the hardwood floor.

It took two rings before the line connected.

“Hello?”

“Danny?” she asked timidly.

“Hey!” said Danny, sounding somewhat surprised. “Where in the heck have _you_ been? I’ve sent you like a hundred texts. You missed out on the _topfenstrudel_ extravaganza we had at Miranda’s last night, FYI...”

Laura shut her eyes and let the back of her head hit the wall.  “Danny,” she whimpered. “I really need to talk to you.”

“Wait— are you okay?” The concern in Danny’s voice was painful. It made Laura feel infinitely worse. She brought her knees up close to her chest and tried to keep her voice from quivering.

“I just… Can you just… I just need to know if you’re okay.”

A pause. “Laura, tell me _what’s wrong_.”

Tears started to form in Laura’s eyes as she curled up more tightly into a ball. She had no way to articulate what was going through her mind or what precisely had happened. The words were hanging in the silence between them, but she suddenly didn’t know how to get them out. Calling Danny had been a mistake. She wasn’t prepared for this. “I think…” she began, fumbling between her tears, “I think I might have failed my midterm.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it definitely wasn’t the reason she was having a near-nervous breakdown. Danny laughed on the other end of the line and it actually managed to comfort her a little. “Hollis, you need to stop freaking out about your grades. I’m speaking to you now as a seasoned English major who has taken many-a-test with mixed results: the sun will go on rising and setting irrespective of what your midterm looks like. So quit worrying before you give yourself an ulcer and I have to rush you to the hospital.”

Laura let out a heavy breath as she wiped a tear off her face. “I know. I guess… I guess I’m just nervous about doing well on my finals.”

“Well, you’ve got a month to kick Brönte around before she submits to your will.”

Laura chuckled. “Yeah, I know.” She paused. “Do you want to come over?”

“I wish, but we’re moving Samantha out for some code of conduct violations. Mel’s been really pissy about it, so I’m trying to do damage control. Can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?  I’ll get you a dozen different pastries to mend that sugary heart of yours.”

Laura smiled. “Thanks, Danny. That would be awesome.”

“Great! I’ll pick you up at seven. I’m meeting with the Summers at eight in the rec building, but I know you can eat fast.”

Laura laughed. “Yeah. You’ll be fine.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She disconnected the call and weakly set the phone down beside her. Tomorrow morning seemed a long ways off as she studied the knife on the floor.     


	3. A Work of Art

Laura let out a shallow breath, checking her reflection a final time. It was twenty minutes to 7:00— twenty minutes till Danny was supposed to be there to pick her up. She could feel the weight of another sleepless night hanging heavily off of her shoulders. Laura had been awake since 5:00am after an endless night of tortured dreams.

She stared blankly at her face in the mirror, finding dull brown eyes staring back at her.

Maybe she wasn’t ready for this.

Maybe it was still too soon.

She knew that she needed to get out of her apartment; it had been over 76 hours. The last thing she wanted was to become some reclusive shut-in, crazed and paranoid by every passing shadow. But the idea of walking back into the world as if all was right seemed exhausting. She’d gone back and forth about cancelling her plans with Danny at least half a dozen times. She really wanted to see her, though, even if it meant pretending to be something that she wasn’t.

And Laura definitely wasn’t well. She could see it in her countenance.

She turned off the lights and stepped out into her hallway, walking determinedly towards the front door. She had decided she was going to meet Danny downstairs. She didn’t want to wait in her apartment any longer.

The bolt slid over after she turned the lock. Her hand was now resting on the doorknob. She breathed in deeply and slowly turned the handle before silently pulling the door open. The hall outside was dimly lit. Empty. Predictably quiet. She wasn’t sure if she’d been expecting anything else, but her nerves were a wreck nonetheless. She carefully closed the door behind her and locked it again with her spare key.

One step down— a hundred more to go.

But really… who was counting?   

The apartment complex Laura lived in was about two miles from the Silas campus. Her apartment belonged to a wealthy aunt on her mother’s side who was gracious enough to let her stay there while Laura was studying abroad. It had allowed Laura to devote her full time to school without the necessity of getting a job— a blessing she didn’t want to take for granted with a lot of reckless behavior as a freshman. Her parents had managed early on to set aside some money for Laura’s education, but her father wasn’t wealthy, by any means, and she was hoping to finish her time at Silas with as little debt accrued as possible. So she settled for a long daily commute instead of the convenience dorm life might have afforded her. Danny often complained about how far away she lived, and Laura would cheekily remind her girlfriend that Danny owned a car.     

She was just about to head for the stairs when she noticed her neighbors’ door was open. LaFontaine and JP were probably about to head off to work since they were typically up and gone before sunrise. Laura grinned and walked over to their apartment, happily catching the scent of whatever goodness Perry had been baking that morning. She could hear the murmur of voices as she drew closer, and when she cautiously peeked inside, she could see JP bustling about the room with LaFontaine following close behind him.

“Hold up, captain,” said LaFontaine affectionately while they stopped to adjust JP’s tie. “Your windsor knot needs a little help.”

“What a coincidence,” JP smiled, “so does yours.” He started to adjust LaF’s tie as well when Perry suddenly appeared around the corner.

“You’re both going to be late,” she said with mock annoyance as she handed LaFontaine an umbrella.

Her neighbors were an odd mishmash of characters that Laura both loved and adored. She had befriended the group when she’d first moved to Silas a little under five months ago. She’d been camped in her apartment for less than a day before the trio showed up on her doorstep, bearing gifts in the form of a bottle of wine and some hand-crochéd potholders. After an hour of endless chatter (and expertly finishing off the wine), Laura had been invited to join them for a night at the movies since “the boxes in her apartment were starting to multiply.” An old, silent cinema in Graz was playing Harold Lloyd’s greatest comedies, and all it took was a free bucket of popcorn for Laura to declare them fast friends.

They were also the only other people in Laura’s building (at least that Laura was aware of) who openly lived an “alternative” lifestyle— even if she wasn’t exactly sure what the nature of their relationship was. What she _did_ know was that they they all seemed to love each other and were some of the sweetest people she’d ever met.

Finding them here was incredibly comforting. They were warm, familiar, and unintimidating.

“Hollis!” said JP with genuine enthusiasm when he finally saw Laura peering in. “You’re up indecently early this morning.”

“Seriously, frosh. Only psychos and lab rats are up at this hour,” said LaFontaine.

“Since when are the two mutually exclusive?” Perry added with a quirk of her brow. “Good morning, sweetie. You’re just in time for breakfast— I’ve made a fresh batch of scones with that homemade jam you and JP are overly fond of.”

“They’re gorgeous, Laura,” said JP happily. She noticed there was jam in his beard.

“Oh, that sounds amazing. Can you save me some for later, Perr? I’m supposed to be meeting Danny for breakfast and I probably shouldn’t ruin my appetite.”

LaFontaine gave her a disbelieving look. “ _You_ ruining your appetite? Unpossible. Besides, I can guarantee that whatever Lawrence is planning to feed you won’t be _half_ as good as Perry’s scones.”

“You’re probably right,” Laura consented. “Can I get one for the road?”

“You can take two,” said Perry cheerfully as she stepped back into the kitchen. She grabbed a dish of freshly whipped cream before turning back to the others with a scowl. “What on earth are you two still doing here? Get going before you miss your train!”

“I think she means us,” said LaFontaine soberly, affecting a wounded air.

“Come on then, you,” said JP cordially, “I’ll walk you to your train. Paint us something lovely today, darling.” They both placed a kiss on Perry’s cheeks.

Perry rushed them out of the door while wiping her hands on her apron. “Every morning...” she mumbled under her breath. “So tell me! How was your weekend?”

Laura watched as Perry spread a healthy amount of jam on two of the scones. “I mostly stayed in,” she absently replied. “I didn’t feel like going out.”

“Ugh, I hear you. The weather’s been terrible. Do you want cream on both?”

“Yes, please.”

Perry was moving distractedly around the kitchen, most likely in search of a plate. Laura took the opportunity to glance over at a few of her paintings that were on display in the living room. They were different landscapes of places in Austria, each of them stunningly beautiful. Her friend’s talent with a paintbrush was just as impressive as her talents in the kitchen.

“LaF wants us to go to Salzburg for _Nationalfeiertag_ this weekend, but I just can’t handle crowds right now...Do you know what I mean?”

“ _Completely_.”

Perry soon appeared in front of her again with a glorious plate of scones in her hand. She paused for a moment, studying Laura quizzically. “Hey… are you okay?”

“Who, me?” Laura laughed. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. I’m just up _way_ too early, is all— plus my lit paper still isn’t finished.” She took a heaping bite of a scone and savored its flavors on her tongue. Gorgeous indeed. “Why do you ask? Do I really look that terrible?” She was aiming for levity, but she thought she failed.

Perry brushed a strand of hair gently away from Laura’s face. “I don’t know. You just seem a little off today, and I don’t ever like to think of you being sad.”

Laura wiped the corner of her mouth. “I’m great, Perr. Honestly. But thanks for asking. And JP was right— these are gorgeous. I may have to swing by for more later.”

Perry chose not to press her any further, which Laura was tremendously grateful for. Three and a half scones later (with extra cream), Laura was out the door again.

The food had given her a little more energy, which Laura desperately needed. She was down the stairs and heading to the building’s entrance with no small amount of trepidation. It occurred to her that she probably should have left with JP and LaFontaine. The idea of walking outside, on her own, suddenly seemed incredibly unappealing.

When she stepped out into the cold morning air, she immediately took in her surroundings. The park across the street… the kiosk at the corner… every window of every building where someone could be watching her. It was still too dark to see everything properly, but there didn’t appear to be anything untoward. A number of people were already commuting to work or school, and that gave Laura a small sense of comfort.

It didn’t take long for her to spot Danny in all of her six-foot grandeur. She was leaning against her car, playing idly with her phone, and was momentarily oblivious to Laura’s presence.

Laura grinned as she started walking towards her, feeling the tension leave her body. The sun hadn’t quite risen, but she could still see gentle streaks of light in Danny’s beautiful red hair. Danny looked up as if she’d realized she was watching her, and returned Laura’s smile with one of her own.   

“There’s my girl,” said Danny cheerfully as Laura quickly approached. She leaned down and gave Laura a lingering kiss while wrapping her arms around her. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to reply to my texts so I have some idea of what to feed you for breakfast.”

“Sorry!” said Laura with the faintest blush. “I forgot to tell you— I can’t find my phone.” It was the most plausible lie Laura could have invented, and Danny accepted it without question.

“Well that explains the awkward silence to my best efforts at sexting you this weekend.” Laura looked horrified and Danny just laughed. “Relax, babe. It’s probably just buried somewhere under the piles of clothes in your room. Where do you last remember having it?”

Laura bit her lip. “At the Hildebrandt on Thursday?”

“And did you _call_ the inn to see if they’d found it?”

Laura sighed. “They don’t have it. I’m probably just going to have to get a new one, which my dad is _so_ not going to be thrilled about.”

“Good,” said Danny with smug satisfaction. “It’s about time you joined the rest of us in the 21st century, Hollis. We’ll convince your dad to buy you a smartphone since the only naked selfies you’re getting are always delivered in person.”

Laura made a face at her girlfriend. “You’re incorrigible.”

“It’s why you love me,” Danny grinned. “And since you love me, are you good if we skip the big fancy breakfast today? I forgot I had leg training with the Lambda Delta Sigmas at the gym in 30 minutes."

"No. No that's fine. I'm just... I'm really happy to see you."

Danny smiled. "Well, I'm very happy to be seen." She kissed Laura again. "How does coffee and a sweet roll sound?"

“That sounds fantastic,” said Laura happily as she moved to climb into Danny’s car.

She sat back in her seat and sighed in relief. She was feeling lighter already. She turned and smiled brightly at her girlfriend as Danny hopped in and started the engine.

Suddenly, all of her fears and frustrations became a long distant memory. She was happy to be with Danny. Happy to be outside again.

And happy to still be alive.     

\---

It didn’t take long for life to return to normal, which was a surprising revelation in of itself. School was the constant, persistent distraction that Laura supposed she should be grateful for.

She was already halfway through her first semester at Silas, and her professors had been merciless with their mid-year workloads. Her days were full of endless lectures and her nights belonged to research and assessments. Her friends occupied what time there was between all of Laura’s studying, and Laura was glad to have someone there to keep her from dwelling on other things.

Danny spent most of her time at various track meets when she wasn't training with the Summers for the Adonis Fetsival. Laura would have enjoyed seeing more of her girlfriend, but it was admittedly a busy time for everyone.

Thankfully, a little distance from her troubling experiences had actually given Laura some perspective. In some ways, it felt like a dream that she was only just starting to wake up from. When she thought back on the events of that night (if she dared to think about them at all), her fears transformed into a confused fascination regarding the motives of her would-be attacker. It was evident, at least, that she wasn’t interested in _killing_ Laura, but the woman’s objectives still remained unclear. Regardless, she’d made no further attempts to contact her, and Laura was prodigiously grateful for it.

It was Friday afternoon, and Laura was walking around the Styria Museum of Fine Arts. She was tasked with writing a paper for her art history class on one of the pieces displayed in the gallery.  Laura had been there for the better part of an hour and she was thoroughly enjoying herself. It was a gorgeous building, and mostly empty with the exception of a few beleaguered students.

Laura walked from room to room. She absolutely _loved_ museums. Their cold, sterile nature never bothered her, though she did prefer more tactile experiences when observing the wonders of the world. Living in Austria was a rich experience in of itself given the country's long and varied history. Her uncle Albrecht once joked that he had antique furniture older than the country of Canada.

Laura quietly moved along, admiring the different works with casual interest. There were several pieces currently on loan from the Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow. The paintings spanned over 600 centuries of Russian art and culture, and Laura catefully studied each painting, marveling at the mastery of their subjects.

It was unbelievable to consider the human hand was capable of this kind of creation. It made Laura wish she was capable of doing _anything_ thatcould inspire a person with so much passion.

There was one painting in particular that caught her interest for its strikingly gruesome subject matter. It was Ivan the Terrible, cradling his son just after he had murdered him. Laura was mesmerized by the scene, how deeply it managed to unsettle her. The eyes on the figures were wide and horrible; she found them utterly haunting.

She vaguely registered the sound of footsteps approaching her from behind. A sharp pair of heels struck against the hardwood floor, echoing across the room.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” said a calm, steady voice: rich and all-too familiar.

Laura went pale.

The temperature in the room clearly dropped by several degrees.

The steps continued, slow and measured, walking ever more purposefully in her direction. Laura couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak...

...And she didn’t _dare_ to turn around.

But she felt her, sensed her all the same: the darkness that had been calling to Laura since she’d stepped into the shadows of hell. How had she convinced herself that she’d ever truly escaped it?

Or, more worryingly, what if she’d accepted that she never really would?

“You can see it in the eyes,” the woman continued, “how effectively Repin was able to capture the tsar’s despair. Isn’t it incredible to see horror so perfectly rendered in a few practiced strokes of a paintbrush?”

Laura said nothing. How could she say anything? She was as stiff as the statues on display. Within her peripheral vision, she saw the woman standing beside her, looking up at the painting in front of them.

Her heart was racing. Laura seemed to be standing on a precipice, waiting to fall. She closed her eyes, gathering what courage was left in her, and slowly looked to the side.

The complete absence of any expectations should have prepared her, more or less, for anything, but as Laura stared transfixed at the profile of the woman beside her, she couldn’t help but feel like every rational thought in her possession had been demonstrably subverted.

The woman was beautiful: absolutely _stunning_ in a way that defied proper description. Every curve, every detail that informed her appearance was as sublime as the artwork surrounding them. Her hair was long, falling beyond her shoulders in a gentle cascade of dark curls. Her skin, a flawless ivory canvas, contrasted exquisitely with her blood-red lipstick. She was dressed in a stylish charcoal gown that looked tailor-made for her figure; the kind of gown that Parisian shops didn’t bother to display with a price tag. Her knee-high boots looked slightly menacing, sporting some rather impressive heels that gave her a height advantage over Laura.

She was, to put it mildly, the most faultlessly exquisite creature that Laura had ever beheld.

But if Laura had been ill-prepared for the revelation of the beauty now standing right beside her, she was completely undone when the woman suddenly turned and fixed her gaze upon Laura.

Her eyes were dark. Impossibly so. In truth, they appeared almost black. But there was a vibrancy in them, primal and ravenous, that completely took Laura’s breath away.  

“We meet again,” said the woman playfully, a small smile on her lips.

Laura realized she needed to say something— anything— and weakly managed, “Hey.”  

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. They merely stood there, quietly observing one another. It felt like there was a lifetime, an entire history that had passed between them, even if Laura was only seeing this woman for the first time in her life.

And it seemed so ridiculous (so _impossibly_ ridiculous) to be standing and exchanging greetings like common acquaintances. Laura was staring into the face of a brutal killer...

...A killer who would have made Titian weep for the want of painting her.

“So,” the woman eventually continued in a low, pleasing tone, “what is this you’re working on?”

Laura quickly looked down at her notes. “Oh. Um…” _What was she working on?_ “It’s for one of my classes... Art history: the renaissance to the contemporary era. We’re supposed to be doing a research paper on one of the pieces in the gallery.”

The woman nodded. “May I?” she said, while gesturing towards Laura’s notebook. Laura handed it over without saying a word, too shocked to do anything else. She watched as her companion calmly studied her notes, occasionally turning a page to continue reading. Laura’s gaze drifted over to the security guard who just happened to be walking past their room.

“Interesting,” said the woman airily, immediately bringing Laura’s attention back to her. “Tackling Kirchner is rather ambitious, and slightly unconventional. A great deal of his work hasn’t even been documented since so much of it was lost during the war.”

Laura awkwardly reached for her notebook and gave a gentle shrug. “I wanted to do something different, I guess. I think his stuff is actually pretty disturbing.”

The woman’s eyes seemed to sparkle at that. “Ah yes, the very essence of expressionism. But it’s not often that a person recognizes the importance of art that challenges them. Too often we find ourselves clinging to images that compliment the rational side of our feelings. No one really wants to stare into the abyss lest they find the abyss staring back at them.” She smiled and looked back at the painting on the wall. “I’m very impressed with you, cutie.”

“My name is Laura,” she meekly responded, then realized just how stupid her comment was. If the woman knew where she lived, where she studied, and had unrestricted access to her mobile phone, she was undoubtedly aware of Laura’s name, never mind that Laura was wearing her student badge that said _Laura Hollis_ in bold lettering…

The smile that spread across the woman’s face was nothing short of dazzling, and when she turned its full intensity on Laura, the latter had difficulty breathing. “Is it indeed?” the woman purred. “Well then, allow me to introduce myself as well.” She held out her hand and waited for Laura to take it. “I’m Carmilla.”

Laura clenched her fingers together before she reached out and took Carmilla’s hand. Her fingers pressed against her slender palm, and the skin was just as warm as she’d remembered it.

A strange, intense kind of energy shifted between them that Laura had difficulty defining. It wasn’t fear, though the sentiment would have been justified, but it was a frightening sensation all the same. Laura carefully withdrew her hand in an effort to place some distance between them. A little bravery had suddenly returned to her, and she looked up and asked, “Why are you following me?”

The look in Carmilla’s eyes was unreadable, though Laura still studied them intently. “Call it curiosity,” Carmilla evenly responded, “and perhaps for my own safety. There are a lot of interested parties who would _love_ to know the particulars of my business here in Silas. But you never went to the police, did you?— nor anyone else that I’m aware of. Is there a reason for that, cutie, or did you want me to just say ‘Thank you?’ Because I’m really very grateful, either way.”

Laura felt her face grow hot as her arms wrapped tightly around her body. There it was again: the question she hadn’t stopped asking herself since she’d stumbled into her home Friday morning. When she failed to give her any kind of a response, Carmilla took a careful step closer until they were only inches apart.

Laura swallowed. She could smell Carmilla’s perfume: subtle, earthy, and intoxicating. It was not the scent of blood that had enveloped her when she’d clung to Carmilla in the darkness.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” said Carmilla quietly. Her eyes were sharp. And intense.

Laura’s response was soft and timid: “But you said you would.”

It was a bold statement—one that Laura couldn’t bring herself to regret. There was a challenge behind it, maybe even a question that Carmilla hadn’t sufficiently answered. But the remark definitely caught Carmilla off guard, and Laura felt strangely relieved for it. She didn’t know why it was so important to her, seeing a hint of contrition in the woman’s countenance. But there was danger there, too— ever present— that slept beneath the surface, waiting to strike. Carmilla was a predator, powerful and beautiful, and Laura wasn’t sure if she was her prey.

The space between them was ever narrowing as Carmilla stepped closer once again.

“Are you frightened?” she whispered, dark and suggestive.

Laura never faltered. “Yes.”

And Laura _was_ frightened... but for so many reasons that conflicted with all sense and understanding. This woman— Carmilla— had indulged in Laura’s fear and had taken so much of her sanity.  And she wanted to ask her why: _Why didn’t you kill me? Why did you carry me through the darkness?_ The truth seemed terrifying, if only because it was the answer to Carmilla’s question as well: _Why did you stay silent?_

The strange look on Carmilla’s face was slowly replaced with a gentle smirk. She took a step back, allowing Laura to breathe again, then turned to look up at another painting. “‘Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, and waste its sweetness on the desert air.’” The words had a beautiful cadence when she spoke them, even if it felt like Carmilla was mocking her.

Laura watched with some confusion as Carmilla walked gracefully towards the doorway. “Well…” she said, smiling, “good luck on your paper, sweetheart. I hope we’ll have the chance to meet again.”

There was an elegant turn, then suddenly, she was gone. The sound of Carmilla’s footsteps grew faint.

Laura stood frozen in the center of the room, wondering what on earth had just happened. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, placing a hand against her chest.

Her name was Carmilla.

She’d spoken to her attacker.

They’d actually met face-to-face.

Of all the scenarios Laura hand conjured up, nothing could have prepared her for this. The woman was artful. Striking. Unpredictable.

And her eyes were as dark as the night.

Laura remained in a quiet daze when she eventually reached the coat desk to pick up her belongings. She numbly handed the woman a plastic number and was promptly handed her coat and backpack. Laura quickly wrapped her coat around her and immediately sensed there were objects in the pockets. She stuck her hands in them, slightly perplexed, and pulled out the contents one at a time.

Her mobile phone. Her set of keys. And a beautiful black box with a red ribbon around it. Laura glanced up, looking in every direction, but there was no trace of her benefactor to be found. She looked back down at the box with cautious interest, then slipped off the ribbon and pulled it open.

It was a small leather book of antique origins that was roughly the size of her hand. Engraved on the front in stamped gold lettering read: _The Poems of Thomas Gray_. A note was attached, written in perfect script which didn’t surprise Laura at all.

_A small token of my appreciation. Words should always speak for themselves._

_-C_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ilya Repin's "Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan (1885)": https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ilya_Repin#/media/File:REPIN_Ivan_Terrible%26Ivan.jpg


	4. Death and the Maiden

In the ongoing narrative of highly improbable events, Laura started seeing Carmilla often.

It began, more or less, at a small café off-campus just three blocks from the southeastern gates. Laura liked to go there on Tuesdays and Thursdays to study and waste time on the internet, though the former usually devolved into the latter with shocking regularity. A two hour gap between biology and journalism gave her some much needed down time, so she took advantage of the easy distance by heading to her favorite coffee shop. The _Café_ _Annektieren_ had an incredible view of the lake on the outskirts of the Silas forest, and sometimes Laura would stay until sunset just to watch the colors change on its surface. It was also a generally quiet place to work, even during their busier lunch hours. Plus their hot chocolate was _exquisite._ She couldn’t stomach the dreck they served on campus.  

On this particular Tuesday, Laura was editing one of her journalism assignments and nibbling on a chocolate croissant, when she sensed someone approaching. She glanced nonchalantly up from her laptop and found Carmilla standing beside her table.

“Fancy meeting you here,” said Carmilla with a smirk, her hands resting idly in the pockets of her leather jacket. She looked every bit as intimidating and gorgeous as Laura remembered her, though much less formal in appearance. Her hair was up in a loose yet attractive bun, and the designer dress had easily been replaced with comfortable-looking jeans. “Would you mind if I joined you for a drink? If you aren’t otherwise engaged with a pressing assignment, of course.”   

The croissant Laura had been chewing on lodged temporarily in her throat, but she nodded her head in wordless consent because how else was she supposed to respond?

Carmilla sat down in the chair opposite hers and immediately caught the nearby server’s attention. He approached their table and she favored him with a smile before ordering a drink in German. It was evident the guy was more than a little enthralled by his obvious attempts to flirt with her, and Carmilla acknowledged his earnest efforts without ever really indulging them.

“Would you care for anything?” said Carmilla, turning to Laura.

“Oh... no, thank you,” Laura replied. She smiled awkwardly up at their server as he walked away from their table.

She turned back to Carmilla once they were alone again and caught the way she was staring at her. Her eyes were quite dark; playful, but intense. And they were fixed very decisively on Laura.

Laura's throat felt suddenly dry. Her hands started fidgeting anxiously. She hastily saved her progress on her assignment before quickly shutting down her laptop. She tried to think of something to say— some excuse to get her out of there. It wasn’t that Laura feared for her safety, per-se; she at least had some assurances on that end. But there was still an unknown variable to these encounters that made Laura prodigiously uncomfortable. If it were only fear, that would be one thing. At least fear was an emotion she understood.

Unfortunately, her feelings were far more complex, and trying to ignore them was difficult. Their meeting on Friday hadn’t been far from Laura’s mind, nor had the girl sitting across from her. The whole experience was still overwhelming to say nothing of the gift Carmilla had given her, but rare editions of expensive books weren’t nearly as intriguing as Carmilla herself.

Laura watched as Carmilla loosened her scarf, seemingly oblivious to Laura’s nervousness. A patch of sunlight caught in her eyes, and you could _almost_ see the brown in them.   

“Did you know this place was once a dressmaker’s shop?” said Carmilla with a distant expression. Her gaze swept over the café’s interior before she turned to look out the window. “I’m always amazed at how quickly the world changes before you’ve even realized it’s happened.”

Laura quietly nodded along. She couldn’t think of anything to add to this sentiment.

Carmilla’s focus soon shifted back to Laura, and her expression suddenly turned methodical. It looked as though she was silently deliberating on what she was going to do with her. Laura gripped the folds of her shirt with sweaty, trembling hands. Evidently, Carmilla had made up her mind as she rested her elbows on the table.    

“Listen,” she said. “I think you and I got off to an unfortunate start. I would really like to fix that— if I may— because I happen to find you very intriguing.” Carmilla gave her a charming smile that was strangely rather inviting. “I honestly don’t want you to be frightened of me, cutie, and I apologize for any undue stress I may have caused you. I’d like us to be friends, if you’re willing to start again. I would love the opportunity to get to know you better.”

Laura swallowed.

Friends with a murderer. _That’ll be an interesting chapter in my autobiography..._

Their server brought Carmilla the drink she ordered. She politely thanked him without ever taking her eyes off of Laura. Cautious expectation weighed the silence between them, and Laura— again— was at a loss for words.

It felt so surreal, like she was watching the scene unfold from an obscure part of her consciousness. She honestly didn’t know what she was supposed to say or how she was supposed to feel about any of it. It was ridiculous that she was even _entertaining_ the idea of befriending a violent killer, but something was pulling Laura to the edge of her fears with slow, burning fascination.

“Sure,” was Laura’s timid response. Carmilla’s smile widened.

An uneasy acquaintance, born out of horror, was now something else entirely.

\-------

From that day forward, her relationship with Carmilla became one of unexpected familiarity. Laura didn’t know exactly how it happened, nor could she explain the mechanics of it.

Carmilla would find her regularly at the café or at random locations around Silas. The outdoor markets, the bookstore in town… Invariably, the two would run into each other. Sometimes their conversations were brief; sometimes they talked for hours. Carmilla would pay for the drinks they shared, and Laura chose not to make an issue out of it.

During these moments, Laura would study Carmilla with the same guarded confusion that had come to define their relationship. She never felt wholly at ease in these encounters, but that may have had more to do with just how _normal_ Carmilla seemed. There was nothing of the violence that had threatened her that night, nor the promise of anything resembling it. Carmilla would only smile and make interesting observations or dry, sarcastic remarks. She also didn’t look a day over twenty, yet she was astonishingly well-versed on every subject under the sun.

Intelligent and beautiful: a very deadly pairing.

And Carmilla was deadly enough.

But Laura was Carmilla’s primary object of interest whenever they were together. Carmilla would ask her an endless series of questions about her life, her goals, and her ambitions. Laura was surprised to discover just how simple it was, sharing this easy discourse with a relative stranger. Carmilla would listen attentively to her answers as if Laura was the most fascinating creature on earth. And she never felt like Carmilla was doing it to humor her— or worse, for some dark, nefarious purpose. Laura was a book that Carmilla couldn’t put down no matter how boring the material was.

Carmilla said very little about herself. It was a topic she avoided as much as possible. Laura had guessed at her reasons for that, but it didn’t lessen her curiosity in the slightest. Laura was a journalist at heart, after all, and Carmilla was a mystery waiting to be solved. She had a talent for answering Laura’s questions without actually answering them at all.

But there were plenty of topics that Laura avoided too…for more than a number of reasons. If Carmilla ever sensed Laura’s reticence during their discussions, she was always very good about changing the subject.

In truth, Laura _enjoyed_ the time they spent together, which was really the most troubling thing of all. There was a natural chemistry that existed between them in spite of just how different they were. Carmilla seemed to understand who she was in a way that few people did, always reading between the lines of Laura’s rambling conversation.

And even though Carmilla remained an alluring mystery wrapped between layers of intrigue, Laura was reading between those lines, too...

With rapt and guarded attention.  

\------

“I was actually born in Landeck. My parents moved to Canada when I was five.”

Carmilla stirred her coke with a straw. “A fellow Austrian? How exciting.”

Laura smiled. “ _Technically_ an Austrian, but Canada was always home. I think that’s why I wanted to come to school here. I needed to get away.”

“Hmmm. Sounds like the provincial life wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Let me guess,” said Carmilla, leaning back in her chair, “you wanted a taste of freedom. The bright-eyed girl who dreamt of seeing the world was shackled under the chains of mediocrity. You had a stifling home life, a ten o’clock curfew, and the boy who took you to prom was an imbecile.”

“No…” said Laura a little defensively. “Well, okay... _Some_ of that is accurate. But my life was pretty good for the most part— or as good as it can be when it’s just you and your dad.” Laura’s expression softened a little. “We lost mom to cancer when I was ten. Appendiceal carcinoma. Dad put everything he could into raising me, often sacrificing his own happiness in the process.” Laura rubbed the back of her neck. “I was a very spoiled child.”     

Carmilla chuckled. “You were an _only_ child. That usually comes with the territory.”

“Well, dad more than made up for that by smothering me all throughout my childhood. His idea of affection was signing me up for hundreds upon thousands of doctors appointments. I was never allowed to be out past _nine_ unless there were “special circumstances,” and spending the night at a friend’s was never an option. All sleepovers were at _Casa de Hollis_.”

“It could have been worse,” said Carmilla helpfully. “I’ve seen crazier parents in my time.”

“Crazier parents?! How many dads do you know that enroll their kids in Israeli defense courses? He stuck me in military-grade swimming lessons when I was twelve years old. _‘What if we’re near the ocean, Laura, and you get caught in a rip-tide?’_ Apparently being able to tread water for thirty minutes is a very important life skill.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I knew if I stayed in Canada, dad would still be hovering over my shoulder. I really love him, and I honestly miss him, but I wanted the chance to finally feel like I was an actual adult.”

Carmilla seemed to take this all in with quiet understanding. “So how did you convince him that studying in Austria was an acceptable alternative?”

Laura shrugged. “My mom grew up here. Austria was her home. Being close to her was important to me, and I think my dad understood that. I used to spend a lot of summers back here when mom was still alive. After her death, dad would occasionally consent to visit when my relatives got anxious to see us. Most of my family live in Salzburg, but there are a few who live in Styria.”

Carmilla rested her chin in her hand. “Right… But why _Silas_?”

Laura was a little confused by the question. “Why Silas University? Isn’t it considered one of the better universities in Europe, let alone Austria? Where else would I have gone for a decent education that was close enough to family and “safe” enough for my dad? School in Vienna would've been a lot more expensive, and I’d really like to graduate without a mountain of debt on top of me.” Laura turned and looked out the window. “Besides, I happen to love it here in Silas.”

She didn't notice the smile playing across Carmilla's face until she looked over and caught the sparkle in her eyes. “What?”

Carmilla laughed. “I just find it interesting that of all the places a parent would send their child, Silas was the city they deemed the safest option for their peace of mind.”

When Laura could only continue staring, Carmilla’s smile turned thoughtful. “You don't know much about Silas, do you?”

Laura shook her head.

“Hmm. I guess Wikipedia doesn't cover the unsavory stories this place is famous for.”

Laura frowned. “What kinds of stories?” She had no idea what Carmilla was talking about. Sure, she knew that Silas could be dangerous (given her present company), but Carmilla was alluding to something more sinister.

And that, in of itself, was highly unsettling.

“Silas has a rather varied history if you felt so inclined to look into it. Hell, you might even find an interesting narrative for your next journalism assignment.”

Laura decided to take the bait. “So what are we talking about here? Witch trials? Cults? Human trafficking? Murderers?” She winced when she said that last part.

Carmilla’s expression suddenly darkened. “Oh, more than you might imagine. A lot of incidents occurred in this place that have no reasonable explanation. Were you aware of the horrific plane crash that happened over fifty years ago?”

Laura nervously shook her head as Carmilla leaned in a little closer. “The plane crashed into an ancient cemetery on the outskirts of the forest. Rescuers recovered over 3,000 bodies from the site of the crash that night.”

Laura blinked.

Carmilla maintained a dark, serious expression.

Laura burst into a fit of laughter.

It was the first time Carmilla made her laugh.

\------

“Is there a reason your girlfriend never joins you here?”

Laura coughed into her drink.

It was Monday afternoon: a break in convention since Laura’s lit class had been cancelled that day. She probably should have been sitting at home, working on her peer-critique for class, but somehow, the thought of hot chocolate and cakes had crushed her good intentions.

She’d texted Carmilla to see if she was free, and was pleased when she answered in the affirmative. The two had exchanged numbers about a week ago, which was slightly less awkward than anticipated. Carmilla was already waiting for her at their table beside the furthest window, and they weren’t ten minutes into their standard, easy banter before Carmilla dropped the question from out of nowhere.

Cocoa was dribbling down Laura’s chin and she wiped it off with her sleeve. “What?” she asked, trying to hide her embarrassment. “Did you mean Danny?”

Carmilla smirked. “Unless there are other tedious women who sext you on a regular basis.”

Laura blushed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this new topic of conversation. It was hardly shocking that Carmilla knew that Laura had a girlfriend, but this was a little more personal than discussing 18th century politics. “Oh. Well. Danny is…”

What. Why _didn’t_ Danny ever join her?

“Danny’s pretty involved in a lot of extra-curricular activities. She’s practically the star of Silas’s track team, plus she’s the president of the Silas Summer Society.”

When Carmilla seemed unphased by any of this information, Laura couldn’t help but ramble on. “I mean, we’d love to see each other more often... It’s just that she’s got a lot on her plate right now. Danny’s applying to grad school next year and I’m only halfway through my freshman semester. The pressure she’s facing is a lot worse than mine, so I want to support her as best as I can.”

Laura was fidgeting anxiously with her hands, something she tended to do when she was nervous. But _why_ was she nervous? Why did explaining this require so much effort on her part?

“And we’ve only been together for just under two months, so I don’t want to be _that_ kind of girlfriend. Like, the kind who gets all needy and clingy and makes unreasonable demands on their partner’s time.”

Carmilla said nothing as Laura spoke. All she did was study her. It was starting to make Laura feel a little self-conscious, and she looked down at her hands with a shy expression.

“Sometimes it’s hard to believe that she would actually want to be with me,” she said quietly. “Danny’s this popular, super-athletic sports star and I’m just… well... I’m me.” She didn’t mean to sound so pathetic, but it was a sentiment she felt nonetheless. Danny was the first serious girlfriend she’d really had, and there were times when Laura just felt… inadequate.         

Something flashed behind Carmilla’s eyes: a spark that smoldered into a flame. The look she gave Laura was so violently intense, Laura had to slide back in her chair a bit.

She had _never_ seen that look before. It felt like it might actually burn her. A chill crept steadily under Laura’s skin in order to temper the heat there.

“I see...” said Carmilla, dark and methodical, as she carefully studied Laura. The fire in her eyes quietly vanished as if it had never existed.

They fell back into a harmless discussion about films and modern cinema, but in that moment, Laura would have given anything to know what Carmilla was really thinking.  

\--------

“I used to have this crazy idea that I would travel all across the U.S. writing stories about the weirdest people that lived in every state. Like, it would be a compendium of really bizarre histories about families full of drug runners and inbreds. My friend Nathan was going to come and take the photos for me. We totally had a _plan_.”

Carmilla found this utterly amusing. “Now that is a book I would read. Potentially outlandish, but slightly more substantial than the fanfiction you _aren’t_ writing about angsty wizard prodigies.”

Laura laughed.

It was a rainy day in the middle of November and the sky was starting to get dark. The chilly weather was keeping the customers in, and Laura had lost track of the time.

“I was always more interested in writing non-fiction anyway,” Laura rambled on. “I’m not exactly sure why that is.”

“Truth isn’t just stranger than fiction, cupcake; it’s also a lot more unpredictable.”

“In some cases, maybe,” said Laura thoughtfully. “Or maybe I just lack imagination.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s _that_ ,” Carmilla smirked, looking far too attractive for her own good.

“Well, anyway... that was always the dream once I finally finished college. The reality is that I’m probably destined for an internship at a failing newspaper in Ottawa.” She shook her head and rested her arms on the table. “I guess things could always be worse. I could end up writing articles about celebrity waistlines for some trashy gossip rag.” She sighed heavily. “My mom would be so proud.”

Carmilla stared at her curiously for a moment. “You don’t think she would be?”

Laura looked up, catching the seriousness in her tone, and gently shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe... Maybe not. It’s hard to say at this point; I had to plan a lot of my future without her.” She stared off into the distance beyond the lake where the rolling mist covered the mountainside. “Do you…” she started, suddenly unsure of herself. “Do you believe in life after death?”

Carmilla seemed mildly shocked by the question. Amused, but shocked all the same. “That’s kind of a loaded question, sweetheart. Are you asking me about religion or the metaphysical?”

“I don’t know,” Laura sighed. “I just… I’ve thought about it a lot over the years. Ever since mom died, I’ve always had this feeling like there was _more_ to everything, you know? Like… sometimes I’ll look up at the sky, and it’s like she’s there. Like she never really left me. But if that were true, and death _wasn’t_ the end, then why does it still scare me?”

Carmilla’s eyes narrowed slightly, but her expression was difficult to read. “The fear of death is a natural instinct. You’re born with a will to live— a will to survive.”

Laura began to fidget again, rubbing her fingers together. “I wasn’t really talking about me,” she said softly, unable to look at Carmilla.

They sat like that for a moment in silence amidst the tinkling of glasses and quiet laughter surrounding them. Laura started twisting a napkin between her fingers just to have something tactile to hold onto. Here they were, discussing _death_ of all things; Laura should have laughed at the irony. But there was a considerable distance between what she felt here versus the horrors that had brought them together.

“I had eighteen months to say goodbye to my mom, and I never really learned how to do it. Watching her suffer during all of that time was almost as hard as watching her drift further away from me. I couldn't stand it. I prayed to God that he’d give me the cancer instead. The thought of dying wasn’t nearly as scary as the thought of being left alone.” Laura dropped the napkin on the table. “I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t want to say goodbye to someone I love and be the only one still left standing.” She looked up at Carmilla. "Is that selfish of me? To hope I never have to see it? I think I'd rather die before I had to watch my dad or anyone else I love be taken away from me again.”

Carmilla seemed to be lost in thought, and she didn't immediately respond. Her finger was resting against her temple; the rest were tucked neatly against her face. She looked as though she were staring into Laura’s soul, examining the different facets that stitched it together. Whatever darkness there was in Carmilla’s heart was plainly visible in her eyes, but it wasn't a look that inspired horror. It was far more sorrowful. Even tragic.

“If I've learned anything over the course of my life, it's that there are far worse things than death. But death isn’t always a terrible thing, cutie. Sometimes it can be beautiful... even peaceful.” Her hand slid down to her empty coffee cup, and she stared vacantly into the bottom of the mug. “Both of my parents died a long time ago.”

Laura’s eyes went wide.

That was _definitely_ not the answer she had been expecting, if she'd expected anything at all. She honestly wasn't sure what she found more startling: the fact that Carmilla had revealed this much to her, or just how horrible the information was.   

“I’m… I’m sorry,” said Laura quietly. Tragedy had a strange way of bonding people.

Carmilla slowly shook her head as if she were miles away. “It was a long time ago,” she said despondently. “Honestly? I barely remember them. The point is, cupcake, death is as much about your perspective as it is anything else. It's fear for some and freedom for others; it just depends on where you're standing. And having to watch someone you love taken away from you is always the hardest part. So no, I don't think that you're selfish at all. If anything, it just makes you human. Maybe it isn't death you fear so much as you fear the idea of being alone."

Laura looked down at her fidgeting hands and felt a tear roll down her cheek. "Maybe," she whispered after a slight moment's pause. She didn’t know when she’d started crying. “I just wish I knew if my mom was still there. I wish I _knew_ if she was proud of me. Maybe the loneliness wouldn't matter so much if I knew I would see her again.”

Carmilla smiled softly at Laura, something she noticed through her tears. Her gaze traveled down to Laura’s fidgeting hands, and she asked, “What was your mother like?

“Smart... Beautiful,” said Laura easily, “and a really talented musician. So obviously absolutely nothing like me, though she _did_ have an addiction to chocolate chip cookies.” Laura’s smile soon matched Carmilla’s. “She also loved being near the ocean. I remember her taking me out on the water and showing me where all the mermaids lived.” Her tears were falling more freely now, and she was starting to get embarrassed. “Sorry,” she laughed. “I’m not usually like this. Maybe my workload at school is starting to get to me.”

A slim pair of hands rested on top of hers, causing her fingers to still. Their warmth spread slowly across Laura’s skin, traveling down each of her fingertips.

‘If you want to know if she’s proud of you, cutie, just look in the mirror,” Carmilla said. Her words were soft— as soft as her hands— and they were spoken with perfect sincerity.

Laura breathed in. It was the first time they’d touched since she’d taken Carmilla’s hand at the museum. There was the same kind of pull— the same startling energy that was buried somewhere deep beneath their skin. Laura was suddenly, completely overwhelmed. How had she ever forgotten the way these hands had affected her? Laura’s heartbeat quickened to a pulsing thrum as she slowly looked up into Carmilla’s eyes.

What she saw in them startled her, warmed her, and even frightened her as nothing in her entire existence ever had. If Carmilla’s eyes were the darkest abyss, then the abyss was most definitely staring back at her.

The noise all around them quietly faded into a distant hum. The steady rise and fall of Laura's chest matched the heated movement of Carmilla's fingers. The quiet reassurance she had pressed into Laura’s skin was gradually shifting into something else. She watched as Carmilla gently brushed her thumb over the sensitive skin on Laura’s wrist.

Her touch was maddening. It made Laura feel faint, as if every wakening nerve in her body was connected to the skin beneath Carmilla's fingertips. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, and the sensation made breathing difficult. Something inside her was wildly panicking as Carmilla moved further up her arm, but it didn’t fully hit her until Laura realized she was tracing Carmilla’s skin with her fingers as well.

Laura suddenly withdrew from her touch, bringing her hands swiftly to her lap. “Thank you,” she whispered, unable to fight the blush that had no doubt spread across her face.

If Carmilla was startled when Laura pulled away from her, she hid it well under a mask of quiet indifference. Her habitual smirk slowly spread over her face as she stood and grabbed her coat from the rack nearby.

“Well… I think that’s it for me, cupcake. The lateness of the hour is upon me.”

“You’re leaving?” said Laura with a hint of concern. She hadn’t meant to offend Carmilla no matter how thick the tension was between them.

“Yes. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m meeting an old friend for dinner tonight. Wouldn’t want to be late— I’m the kind of girl who _insists_ on making a good impression,” she said with a wink.

Laura was weirdly conflicted about this information. A friend? For dinner? Why was she only just hearing about this now? Her skin was still tingling where Carmilla had touched her, and Laura rubbed it absently with her fingertips. “Oh. Well... I guess I’ll see you soon?”

Carmilla smirked at her wickedly. “ _Definitely_ not tonight, but hopefully soon enough. Thanks for the drink, cutie. Hope you have fun this weekend.”

Carmilla placed a large banknote on the table before stepping outside into the cold. Laura watched her leave with a mixture of trepidation and, more astonishingly, disappointment.

Something had just happened. Something more significant than either girl was acknowledging. And with all the conflicting emotions in Laura’s heart, all she could think about was just how soft Carmilla’s hands had been.

\------   

Night had fallen over the Styrian mountainside, blanketing the forest in darkness. A third quarter moon was hidden behind the clouds, streaked silver above the black canvas of night.

On a narrow road that wound between the pine trees deep within a lowland ravine, the lights of an indistinct vehicle shone brightly along a forgotten highway. Another car followed closely behind at a locked, cautious distance. The rain from earlier left a mist on the roads that further obscured their passage through the mountains.

Walter Corvae was not in the greatest of moods. His constitution had been poorly for the last three days. His considerable weight was also making him sweat, though the temperature in the car was freezing. He studied the screen on the tablet in front of him, frowning at the information on display. Proposed budget cuts… changes to planned spending… It was all giving him a headache. The new fiscal policies were going to cut heavily into his profits, and the margins were narrowing quickly.

He grunted and took a hard swig of cognac. He _loathed_ being back in Silas.

These token appearances to protect his interests were becoming incredibly tiresome. He would be fairing much better on an island in Bali, glutting himself on foreign delicacies and beautiful, underage girls. He checked his calendar to confirm the meeting time with the board of governors tomorrow morning. The vultures were circling, and he was hungry enough to tear a few of the birds apart himself.

Of course, there were _other_ pressing matters that Walter needed to deal with—namely, that several of his contacts in Silas had been compromised with no word on the parties responsible. He finished the rest of his brandy off before grabbing the bottle off the shelf. The murder investigation had gone terribly from the start. Heads would roll once he visited the coroner’s office.

A call came through on his security guard’s phone. He picked it up, and a brief discussion commenced that Walter paid little to no attention to. The guard turned to the driver and muttered something unintelligible, and eventually, the car began to slow down.

The back of the first vehicle came into view as their car rolled to a stop behind it.  

“What’s going on?” Walter barked. “Why in the hell have we stopped here?”

“Apologies, Mr. Corvae,” the driver replied. “We got a call from Williams; there’s a dead animal blocking the road.”

Walter frowned. “Perfect. Just perfect. How long’s it going to take to get rid of the damn thing?”

“I’m not sure, sir. They didn’t say what kind of animal it was.”

“Well then get the hell out there and tell them to move it fast. I don’t care how bloated or sick it looks; I want to be in the city by midnight.”

His security guard nodded and exited the vehicle, walking quickly to the front of the other car. A tense silence followed as Walter angrily loosened the sweat-soaked tie beneath his collar. Delays weren’t good. They needed to get moving. He turned up the air-conditioning in the back of the car.

_One more setback. One more nuisance. To hell with this godforsaken place._

Time slowly began to crawl as Walter emptied another glass of cognac. He swore under his breath as he reached down to adjust himself. How long did it take to move a fucking animal?  He started to scroll aimlessly on his tablet again as the sweat poured heavily down his face. It had easily been over twenty minutes now, and he’d lost every ounce of his patience.

“ _This is ridiculous,”_ he hissed in annoyance. “Call Lain and find out what’s taking so long.”

The driver pressed a number on his cell phone. It rang for several seconds before going to voicemail.

“He’s not answering,” the driver said, and he tried a different number. No response from Williams or Thomas. He quickly turned off the car.

“What the hell are you doing?” Walter snarled. Sweat was now pooling beneath his shirt.

“Wait here, Mr. Corvae,” said the driver tightly, and he reached for a gun in the glove box. “No one seems to be picking up their phones. I’ll check it out and see what’s going on.” He opened his door and stepped out of the car before quickly leaning back in. “You may want to lock the doors just in case we have some company out here.”

Walter wasn’t pleased in the slightest by this directive. He was a Furyian Demon and the chief executive officer of the Corvae Corporation. No one would _dare_ try and touch him while he was in Silas. Anyone who did risked gaining the unwanted attention of the entire Silas board of governors.

And that would be _insane_.

He watched as his driver stepped cautiously around the vehicles and eventually disappeared from his line of sight. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigar with thick fingers covered in sweat. There was no sound of gunfire—nothing beyond the sounds of his own labored breathing. The minutes ticked on, and he broke the cigar in half. _Where the hell was his security team?_

He had to get out of there. The air in the car was stifling. And he wanted answers this instant.

Walter stepped heavily out of the vehicle and slammed his door shut with the force of his temper. “What part of ‘ _move fast’_ did you not understand?” he bellowed into the darkness.

No one responded. All he could hear were the restless sounds of the forest.

The chill in the air hit the moisture on his body, helping to cool him down a little. He stalked over to the vehicle parked in front of him and roughly yanked one of the doors wide open. 

The car was empty. There was no sign of anyone. Not even the signs of a struggle.

Walter looked back, scanning the trees around him, finding vague silhouettes within the shadows. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Every member of his security team had just... vanished.

He followed the car-lights to the road up ahead where he could see a large animal blocking it. It looked like a stag, but it was impossible to tell from this distance. A large pool of blood lay under its body.

Walter licked the spittle from his mouth as he looked back out towards the forest.

Someone was watching him. Someone was waiting. He could feel their eyes burning through the darkness.

He started walking slowly towards the animal, listening intently for signs of life. All he could hear was the incessant buzz of insects that were swarming around the animal carcass. His gait was unsteady, more so than usual, as he wiped the sweat off his face. The bulk of his weight made breathing more difficult, and the air felt strangely hot around him.

Soon, the dead beast came into view, stretched out grimly before him. The stag’s eye was rolled up into its head with a vacant, milky stare. A pale-pink tongue was hanging out of its mouth, coated in cadaverous froth. He could see the gaping wound on its throat where something— or someone— had slashed it with little or no effort.

Walter’s heart started pounding in his chest.

This was all a set-up.

The trap had been all-too-easily constructed, and Walter had walked right into it.

In that very moment, he felt a hand in his hair, seizing it in a vice-like grip. His head was jerked back by a painful tug that nearly came close to snapping his neck. Suddenly, a hot hand closed around his throat and violently tore the skin off. He fell to his knees in a wordless scream as the ground was sprayed red with arterial blood.

Walter’s hands moved helplessly and clumsily to the gaping wound on his neck. His eyes were bulging, and every beat of his heart sent the blood pumping harder out of his throat. As he stared frantically at the crimson gore coating the ground beneath his legs, a slim pair of black leather boots stepped into his line of vision.

“Hello, Walter,” said a beautiful voice, cold and laced with hatred. “It’s been quite a while. I hope you haven’t forgotten me. Not after all this time.”

Walter gasped in silent horror as his eyes traveled up the length of her body. Recognition hit him like the blade of an axe with cold, brutal force. His lips began to tremble as they silently formed the name that he had long forgotten, and every syllable was stained in blood that spilled in red-hot agony: _Mircalla_.

Her eyes were glowing, yellow and fierce. A smile spread across her face.

The last thing he saw was her fangs extended, sharp and glistening with terrible purpose.


	5. Nocturnes

Mattie observed the interior of the cabin with the faintest tinge of disgust. Remnants of nests and animal feces covered the stacks of splintered wood piles in every corner. It was a broken-down hovel buried deep within the forest on the far side of the northwestern pass. Whatever miserable humans had once laid claim to the wreck had long since abandoned it.

She glanced down at the ground where all that remained of Walter Corvae lay spread across the floor. Were it not for the hideous amount of flesh on the corpse, it would have been next to impossible to identify him. The body looked as though it had been worked through the side of a well-oiled meat-grinder. Her lip curled ever-so-slightly as she leaned over the twisted mass of flesh and bone.

Perhaps she was incorrect in determining just how easy it was to identify him. Only Walter ever wore that abhorrent cologne. Surprisingly, the air still reeked of it.

“We think we’ve located the rest of his escort,” said a voice from the open doorway.

Mattie stood up and turned to her assistant with a mildly shocked expression. “You _think_ you’ve located them?”

The girl looked uncomfortable. “We don’t have a definitive count of the bodies. All we’ve been able to recover are... parts.”

Mattie lifted an eyebrow in response. _How utterly macabre_. “Well then... Make sure you’ve collected all the pieces and we’ll try and re-assemble what we can.” She gave the girl a confident smile that was probably ill-placed for the situation.

The girl stepped back just as another figure approached under the pallid veil of morning sunlight. Strygia had obviously decided to follow Mattie when the call came in from the search team. She stood there staring at the body on the ground, unable to hide the revulsion on her face. She reached into her purse and took out a handkerchief that was most likely dabbed with perfume.

“Is that him?” Strygia muttered, bringing the tissue under her nose to wipe at the moisture there.

“What’s left of him, really,” said Mattie indifferently. “Hard to know what shape he was in before the insects and vermin started picking at him.”

Strygia stepped purposefully into the room, and the floorboards creaked loudly beneath her feet. She stared at the remains with hard, beady eyes, making her look even more owl-like than usual. The hair on her head was tightly pulled back, enhancing her severe expression, and she raised a horned finger to her cheek, brushing absently at an invisible spider web. “What do we know?”

“Very little, I'm afraid. They estimate he’s been rotting in here for the last thirty-five hours or so. Cause of death has yet to be determined since our murderer made _quite_ the mess of him.” Mattie casually stepped over an arm while adjusting one of her gloves. It was difficult to surmise which end was up since Walter was missing most of his face. “The body was obviously brought to this location since the area is devoid of any blood-spray. My people found the vehicles abandoned near the 8th mile-marker in Sommer’s Canyon.”  

Strygia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “So much for the fool’s punctuality. I knew that Walter was many things, but apathetic about his investments? Not so much.” She slowly tilted her head to the side, eying the flesh more curiously. “What do we make of this, Matska?”

“You can make of it what you will. The man clearly wasn’t lacking in enemies.” Mattie avoided a piece of cartilage that seemed to be stuck to the floor. “One thing is clear: our assailant knew exactly when and where Walter would be traveling Thursday night.”

“A close associate, then?”

“Quite possibly, but there’s a larger picture to consider. Four of his contacts turned up dead in a cathedral on Highstreet well over a month ago, which hardly seems coincidental. What would you like to wager that our murderer was gutting them for intelligence on Walter’s travel plans? Someone, perhaps, who knew the Board of Governors would be assembling for our quarterly meeting in November?”

Strygia considered the information carefully. “This is all too close for my liking.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, it narrows down your suspects a bit. Looking at things objectively, there are plenty who stand to profit now that there’s a vacancy at the top of the Corvae ladder. We could also be looking at a premature bid for election to the Board of Governors come the spring.”

Strygia smirked. “Don’t play coy with me, Belmonde; I _know_ you must suspect someone. No one just mutilates one of the Silas board members and leaves this filth on our doorstep.”    

Mattie gave her a cool, knowing stare before glancing back down at the corpse. “It was obviously personal, if that tells you anything.”

“That tells me nothing.”

“But it _should_.”

Strygia regarded her with a stone-faced expression. Mattie could only smile in response. “Do you _really_ have to guess who did this?”

It took a moment for the realization to sink in.

“No,” Strygia whispered. “You can’t possibly be serious.”  

Mattie let out a humorless laugh. “Darling, I’m standing beside Walter Corvae’s entrails; would I _dare_ to be anything other than serious?”

Strygia began to circle the body again, pressing her handkerchief up to her lips. “Mircalla Karnstein,” she muttered under her breath. There was almost a sense of awe in her voice. Mattie certainly couldn’t blame her for paying Mircalla a slight amount of deference. The idea that a vampire could have brutally eviscerated a Furyian demon was rather remarkable in of itself. But Mircalla had always been a remarkable creature, which— in truth— was why they were family. And if rage was the medium Mircalla was painting with, then Walter’s corpse was a work of art.

“You knew full-well when she went into hiding that we hadn’t heard the end of it,” Mattie stated.

Strygia gave her a thin-lipped smile. “I thought the little matter was concluded after she put Lilita in the ground.”

“Then you underestimate the kind of hatred you can breed after locking someone in a coffin for seventy-two years. Mircalla’s had a lifetime to nurse her grudges, and burying our mother was hardly going to satisfy them. Thalia’s insistence on chasing after her wouldn't have helped matters either. Walter’s death was merely an overture; Mircalla is out for blood.”

Strygia grimaced as she eyed the tear marks covering Walter’s flesh. “It should never have come this far. How did Thalia fail to kill her? We were all given assurances.”

“Thalia is dead,” said a deep, rumbling voice, and they turned simultaneously to the open doorway. Streaks of sunlight caught on the yellow robes of the scarred high priest of the Hasturian Order. His dark skin was an interesting contrast to the gold stitched expertly within the garment, and the sacred scars covering his face gave him a deeply unsettling appearance. “Our sources confirmed that her body was recovered at a villa in Sardinia two months ago. Her representative failed to communicate this to us since he hoped to maintain all of her resources.”

Strygia was aghast. “Thalia is _dead?”_

“How was she killed?” Mattie cut in.

“Of that, we are uncertain. The body was burned. There is little that remains other than ash.”

Strygia gave Mattie a wild-eyed look. “Did you know about this, Belmonde?”

Mattie scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. I was as unaware of it as you were.”

The Hasturian monk brought his hands together. “It matters not— their fates are sealed. All that remains is to scatter their ashes and elect worthy replacements. We may reconvene after the winter solstice to discuss the lines of succession. The All-Father, whom I humbly represent, will have thoughts he may wish to impart to you.”   

Strygia was hardly placated by this suggestion. “Have you gone utterly mad? Two of our members have been ground into worm food and you wish to sit back and do _nothing?_ ”

“I take no tender thought at their passing,” he said with calm detachment. “The Gods have written that those who are weak must feed the higher orders. You are free to waste your time avenging the lives of these lesser animals, but tracking their killer is of little consequence to our holy Order.”

“You’re a gullible fool if you believe that, Sonoma,” said Strygia viciously. She pointed a finger at Corvae’s body. “This is a message left for all of us. Lilita’s vampiric whore of a daughter has come to seek out a reckoning, and if you think she plans to stop with Corvae, then you are _wildly_ mistaken.”

The Hasturian monk laughed heartily at this. “We do not fear the undead. The pale walker is free to seek us out if she is truly intent on a reckoning.”

“Mircalla is resourceful, and more dangerous than you may realize,” said Mattie with an air of warning. “Let’s not forget that it was _your_ blade she unearthed when she used it to decapitate my mother.”  

The monk’s stare was pointed and menacing. “You speak a heavy truth, Matska. But it would take far more than the Blade of Hastur to sever the heads of the Elders.” He calmly reached down and placed his hand inside of Corvae’s body cavity. When he took it away, there was thick, blackened blood on the tips of his fingers, and he brought them reverently to his lips. “My brothers and I will soon be gathering at the Cathedral of the Drowned Sun. You will not see me again before the solstice. Until then, I bid you farewell.”

He bowed gracefully and took his leave, disappearing once more from their view. Strygia turned to Mattie with a look that was both determined and cruel.

“I want this dealt with, Matska,” she hissed. “Find her and subdue her— immediately. When I return from the Americas, I will not be satisfied until your sister’s head is on a spike.”

She stalked out of the room with a menacing turn, leaving Mattie once more to the silence. Mattie couldn’t help but smile to herself. Strygia was _never_ more amusing than when she was attempting to threaten others.   

Mattie glanced down at the body once more, and her expression suddenly turned methodical. It was difficult to be certain in all that lay before her, but it appeared that Walter’s heart had been removed.

\-----

The campus library at Silas University was an unsettling place after dark. Not that it wasn’t fairly unsettling to begin with, but the night lent it a particular malevolence that few were brave enough to encounter. From the outside, it was an imposing five-story structure with an aesthetic derived from the medieval era. The interior, by contrast, was a seemingly endless labyrinth of darkened corridors and towering bookcases. There were caverns below that supposedly even connected to an old, underground waterway. Some people believed that the place was actually haunted— a sentiment that applied to more than one campus building.  

Laura was studying in the resource area near a small alcove on the fourth floor. Healthy stacks of vintage publications were heaped on every side of her computer. The lamplight illuminated the confined space around her as she poured over lines of text in a weathered-looking compendium of Styrian newspapers from the early twentieth century. She’d been reading an article about several missing persons from Silas in 1912. Laura squinted, then glanced at her notes where she had documented similar stories.

1892… 1912… 1932… A pattern was forming. She grabbed another book off the stack and flipped to their December publications.

It was Saturday evening, and Laura had been neck-deep in research for the last four and a half hours. What began as a potential topic for her journalism final had spiraled into a disconcerting obsession. Silas, it seemed, was more than an idyllic province nestled deep within the Styrian countryside. Its history was replete with strange occurrences, yet very little had been reported about these events and no one had ever connected them. Students, for example, had gone missing like clockwork every twenty years over the last two centuries. None of these students were ever found, and authorities had no explanation for the disappearances. There had also been reports of “changelings” seen in the forest, though these stories were obviously sensationalized by the press. Superstitions ran high during the turn of the century in Silas if any of these articles were to be taken seriously.    

Laura skimmed through various headlines, occasionally cross-referencing one of the sources with journals she’d found in the archives. Some of the words were difficult to read as they tested the limits of her German vocabulary.   

 _The Silas Morning-- December 03, 1904_ : _148 SOULS PERISH IN CHAPEL FIRE_  
  
_In the early hours of the 28th ult., a fire was found to have broken out in the antechamber of the Heinrich C. Dudley Chapel, housed on the grounds of Silas University. It is feared that more than 148 persons were burned within the conflagration. The judicious actions of the local fire brigade could not prevent the fire from spreading. Authorities under the Silas C.P.D. have reasons to suspect arsony..._

Laura made a note about the fire. For some reason, it felt significant. She was also certain that the Dudley Chapel used to be located where the Lustig Theatre currently stood. She slowly leaned back and stared off into space while her mind processed this information. Hadn’t she read something about one of the missing girls being last seen at the Lustig in 1992?     

Her phone suddenly buzzed on the desk. She picked it up and glanced tiredly at the screen. It was another text from Danny— probably the sixth one she’d sent in the last two hours or so. Laura rubbed her fingers over her forehead as she flipped open her phone and read the message:

 **Danny:** _Come on, babe. I’ve got Grey Goose in the freezer and Rachel McAdams up on the screen. Give the homework a rest and get your pert butt over here before I start cuddling with Malorie. :P_

Laura sighed as she began to text a reply (very similar to the last five she’d sent): 

**Laura** : _Sorry, D. Still at the library. I’ll call you when I get home? xx_            

She knew that Danny wasn’t happy with her. It was Saturday night and Laura was at the library instead of spending quality time with her girlfriend. Granted, this was also the third day this week that she’d been forced to give Danny a raincheck, so statistically speaking, she was probably overdue for a Lawrence-driven guilt trip.

Still, Laura thought it was a little unfair of Danny to play this card right now. Laura was buried under piles of homework with no reprieve in sight. It was also kind of frustrating when Danny was dismissive of her workload since this was “just her freshman semester.” Why would being new to this preclude her from stressing over her first semester grades? Laura had been working her butt off for months under some pretty stressful conditions, and with finals looming, she had to be more conscientious of how she was spending her free time. The first draft of her journalism project was due in on Tuesday afternoon, and she was still trying to fine-tune her lit paper on Brontë before her next peer-critique Monday morning. Spending the night on the couch of the Summer house necking with Danny seemed counterproductive, particularly when all of her Summer Society sisters were hovering around, being obnoxious.

She was just about to grab another book when her phone buzzed again.

 **Danny** : _Seriously_ ? _How can you still be at the library?! Don’t they close at nine?_

Laura quickly looked up at the clock hanging on the wall just above her. Sure enough, it was 9:27PM. How in the _heck_ had it gotten so late? She slid back in her chair and looked around the room, only to discover she was the last student in there.

 _Freaking frig._ No wonder it was so quiet. Well, quieter than it normally was, anyway.

Laura hastily shut off her laptop, gathered her candy wrappers and stuffed them in her backpack. Hopefully the jerk who was working the front desk wouldn’t give her too much grief about staying late. Laura was generally a pretty friendly person and avoided contention where she could, but she could only stand so much passive-aggressive condescension from the disgusting neck-beard at the checkout counter.

When she switched off her lamplight, the room swiftly transformed into a dark swathe of distorted shadows. Only a few scattered lights from the computer monitors were visible in the darkness surrounding her. She took a deep breath as the ensuing silence became a bit too heightened for her comfort. She had never been in the library by herself, let alone after dark. The sounds of creaking pipes in the walls gave some legitimacy to the rumors about hauntings no matter how rational this all might have been from an outsider’s perspective. Laura turned around and headed towards the doorway while shrugging on her coat. Her mind was obviously starting to play tricks on her, and the articles she’d been reading hadn’t helped.

When she quickly reached out to open the doors, she was horrified to discover they’d both been locked. Some desperate, excessive jiggling of the handles wasn’t making much of a difference either.

“Oh no no no...” she said in frenzied panic. This couldn’t possibly be happening. There was no way in heck she was going to spend the night trapped on the fourth floor of the freaking library. She knocked on the doors with both of her fists, hoping to draw someone’s attention. She peeked out of the windows and looked past the elevators, but it was evident that she was very much alone.

 _Okay. Don’t panic. Just call the front desk and tell them they’ve locked you in. The stupid librarian is probably still down there, watching hentai or something gross on his laptop..._         

She took out her phone and stared blankly at the buttons. What was the number for the main office? A smartphone would have been very handy right now. Maybe there was a directory on one of the desks somewhere.   

Laura shrieked when she turned around and stumbled into a dark figure standing behind her. It took her a moment to realize it was Carmilla, who had just appeared out of nowhere.

“Working late?” said Carmilla with a smirk. She glanced down at the lapels of her jacket where Laura was gripping them tightly.

Laura was ten seconds away from strangling her as she closed her eyes in frustration. “Carm,” she said, both relieved and agitated, “are you _trying_ to give me a heart-attack?”

Carmilla grinned; possibly over the nickname, but more likely because of Laura’s annoyance.  “Sorry, cutie. I guess I forgot how twitchy you can get.”

“Anyone would be twitchy if some dangerous stalker was creeping up on them in an empty library!”

Carmilla actually laughed at the comment. It made her all the more beautiful, which only vexed Laura even more. “A dangerous stalker? You wound me, cupcake. I came over because it looked like you needed some help.”

Laura slid her hands off her jacket with a loud, exasperated sigh. “Sorry. I’m just… I’m _beyond_ irritated right now. The doors are locked and I guess we can’t open them from this side of the hall.”

“Locked?” said Carmilla with an inquisitive stare, glancing at the doors behind Laura.

“Yeah. The asshole at the front desk forgot I was up here and locked me in without even checking.” She ran a hand roughly through her hair before staring off into the darkness. “This is what I get for being a good student instead of drinking irresponsibly on a Saturday night.”

“Drinking irresponsibly is highly overrated.”

“I know... That’s why I’m complaining.” She glanced sideways at Carmilla. “How did you get in here, anyway?”

Carmilla’s eyebrow arched coyly. “What if I told you I mysteriously apparated in a thick cloud of smoke?”

Laura merely stared at her. Evidently, she’d lost her sense of humor about fifteen minutes ago.

Carmilla grinned as she gestured to a bookcase at the far back of the room. “There’s a staircase behind there that leads down into the library’s sub-basement where they house the old periodicals.”

Laura gave her an incredulous look. “A secret passageway... behind the bookcase.”

Carmilla shrugged. “You’d be shocked if you knew how many paths lead in and out of this building.”

“Well that’s comforting,” Laura muttered. “Can you get us out?”

“I don’t think that should be terribly difficult. Especially since you asked me so nicely.” She winked at Laura before casually striding over to the bookcase at the back of the room. Laura didn’t know if she found this charming or confusing. It was usually a mixture of both with Carmilla.

Still, Laura followed her, even if she remained skeptical about this whole arrangement. “So how did you even know I was up here?”

“Because I’ve been stalking you,” said Carmilla dryly.

Laura’s hands went up in defeat. “Fine. Whatever. Forget I asked. How will you keep your air of mystery if you answer any of my questions?”

Carmilla chuckled. “You give up too easily, cutie. Don’t ever be scared to challenge me. Victories are only satisfying if the battle is hard fought, and you’re a worthy adversary.”

Laura felt herself blushing a little, though Carmilla wasn’t strictly being flirtatious. She had been praised for a lot of different things in her lifetime, but her ability to challenge others wasn’t one of them. She watched with interest as Carmilla slid her hands mechanically over the books on the upper shelf. She had no idea what Carmilla was looking for, but her movements were fascinating nonetheless.

“So...” said Laura with an air of nonchalance. “How was dinner Thursday night?”

Carmilla smiled, but didn’t say anything. Laura wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Carmilla’s fingers settled above the spines of two books on separate shelves. She pulled them down simultaneously before taking a cautious step backwards. There was a loud click before the bookcase started to shift with a hard, grating sound. It turned slowly in a winding motion like a large revolving door.

A waft of dank and stagnant air greeted Laura’s senses with the vision of an old stonework staircase that led into the deepest darkness.

“Shall we?” said Carmilla with polite decorum as she gestured towards the stairway.

Laura didn’t move. Every muscle in her body had gone painfully rigid.

Her gaze was fixed on the spiraled staircase with cold, sickening apprehension. She obviously hadn’t been thinking clearly when Carmilla suggested they take this route. The low sound of a ghostly breeze echoed within the darkness, and Laura took an involuntary step back from the open passageway.

“Cupcake?” said Carmilla with a questioning stare. “This can take us down to the first floor. We don’t have to follow it all the way down to the caverns underground.”

Laura only faintly heard her as she stared into the space beyond the wall. She was fighting hard to stay calm. Collected. She clenched her hands to stop them from trembling.

Carmilla was right. The exit was there;  _right there_ in front of her. But her body refused to move an inch, and she struggled just to control her breathing. The darkness was already starting to suffocate her, and Laura knew she was going to be sick. All she could think about was the bookcase closing, trapping her in the darkness forever.  

She felt a hand press against her arm, causing her to violently flinch.

“Hey,” said Carmilla with soft reassurance. “Look at me. Are you alright?”

Laura grabbed hold of Carmilla’s sleeve, never taking her eyes off the staircase. “Is there another way out?” she quietly asked. She felt her lips growing numb.

Carmilla took Laura’s face in her hand and gently moved it towards her. She was obviously trying to get Laura to focus on something other than the stairway. It seemed to produce the desired effect as Laura was suddenly _very_ much aware of just how close they were standing. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her this close. Carmilla’s eyes shone brightly in the darkness.  

“Do you want me to help you?” she softly asked. Her voice was calm. Patient.

Laura swallowed. “I don’t want to go down there.”

Carmilla didn’t question her further.

She quietly nodded and stepped away from Laura, moving back towards the open passage. Laura watched her close the revolving bookcase, feeling both relieved and humiliated. She folded her arms tightly around her body and tried to hold off her tears. _How many times was she going to have to face this? When would the nightmares finally leave?_

Carmilla wordlessly took hold of Laura’s hand and pulled her towards the office area. Laura followed with cautious interest, though she was largely preoccupied with the hand pressing against hers.

“Where are we going?” she quietly asked.

“Plan C,” Carmilla said. She stopped in front of a large window and looked down at the side of the building. “How do you feel about heights?”

“Um...” said Laura with a skeptical expression. “I’m just fine with heights. I’m less fine with what you might be suggesting.”

Carmilla looked over and smiled at her. “I could suggest _plenty_ of things to you, sweetheart. Right now, I’m more interested in getting out of here. Unless you’d like to stay overnight.” She turned the latch with a flick of her wrist and forced the window open. A cold breeze shot into the room just as Carmilla slid out over the ledge.

“Carm!” Laura gasped. “Are you out of your _mind?_ ”

“Personally? I don’t like to think so. We've already established that I'm a tad impulsive, but that’s hardly indicative of a frenzied mind.” She looked down again and smiled to herself before glancing back up at Laura. “So how do you feel about taking the scenic route out of the library this evening?”

Laura couldn’t believe she was being serious. “You want to climb down the side of the building.”

“Sure. Why not? I’m an excellent climber. I spent a month in the Antarctic scaling glaciers more daunting than this.” She casually leaned back against the window frame and folded her arms over her chest. “I’m also perfectly capable of carrying you. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Carm,” Laura sighed, “this isn’t a Disney movie where we just whimsically hop out of a window. This is a four-story drop that could easily kill us if you were to slip and fall.”

“That’s your father talking,” said Carmilla plainly. “And he isn’t here right now. I thought the reason you came to Austria in the first place was to start taking risks with your life.”

Laura hesitated. “That’s not—”

“What? That’s not what you meant when you said it?” Carmilla gave her a pointed stare. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Laura started rubbing her hands together. “Look Carmilla, I...”

“Do you trust me?”

Laura sighed. “This isn’t about that.”

“Cupcake, I’m going to get you down safely.”

Laura stared at Carmilla intently, studying the conviction on her face. All rational thought must have vanished in that moment because Laura found herself believing her. She glanced back at the bookcase again before taking a step closer to Carmilla. “This is really plan C?”

Carmilla smirked. “Plan D involves property damage.”

Laura worried her bottom lip as she cautiously looked out of the window. No, she wasn’t scared of heights, but that was a pretty freaking steep drop.

“So how do we do this?” she nervously asked.

“Very easily, my dear. You climb on my back and I get us down. I’m a lot stronger than I look.”

Laura knew that perfectly well. Rather intimately, point of fact. She took a deep breath and met Carmilla’s gaze, silently placing her trust there. “You know I’m a lot heavier than I look, right?”

“I think I’ll be able to manage.” She swung around so that Laura could climb onto her, and Laura approached with tentative steps.

“You’re sure you can do this?” Laura whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around Carmilla’s neck.  

Carmilla reached up and placed her hand on Laura’s. “I promise, cutie. Just hold onto me tight.”

“You won’t let me fall?”

“I won’t let you fall. And if you did, I’d be sure to catch you.”

Laura felt her pulse pick up. Certain death lay four stories below them, yet Laura was getting flustered for reasons that had nothing to do with climbing.

Suddenly, they both slipped away from the window and out into the cold night air. In a flash of speed, Carmilla spun them around so they were hanging just below the window’s ledge.

Laura was more than a little disoriented as she found herself suddenly facing the building. Her arms and legs were clinging tightly to Carmilla, who easily grabbed on to the ledge. She felt the wind rushing through her ears and silently began to panic. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. And maybe she shouldn’t look down.

Carmilla, however, seemed perfectly at ease as she began to climb down the building. She went slowly at first, which Laura was grateful for since she was not prepared for a rapid descent. The stone gargoyles and jutting ledges provided them with enough easy handholds which Carmilla took full advantage of as they continued to move towards the ground.

Truthfully, it was a little amazing to watch Carmilla’s cool, practiced movements. She climbed with the grace and agility of a feline, hardly making any sounds as she descended. It also surprised Laura, again, to discover just how warm Carmilla felt pressed against her. In another place and time, she might have to examine why Carmilla had that kind of an affect on her. She also wondered if Carmilla could feel just how fast her heart was beating. Laura wasn’t sure just how much of it was actually due to dangling over the building.

Carmilla turned her head to the side and looked down at the ground. She let go of her grip, and Laura shrieked before they both landed safely on the pavement.

“Would you look at that,” said Carmilla smugly as she glanced back up at the open window. “Four stories down and not a scratch on you. How’s that for a safe landing, cupcake?”

It took Laura a few anxious seconds to realize that they were actually on the ground. She looked up at the window and then back to Carmilla. “I think I owe you a drink.”

\-----

The Saturday-night crowds at the bar on Evensen prompted Laura and Carmilla to abandon their drink plans. Instead, they decided to take a stroll through the park since it was on the way back to Laura’s place. It was a gorgeous night, though the weather was freezing since winter had come early that year. Still, Laura enjoyed how pleasant it felt to be walking side-by-side with Carmilla.

The late autumn frost had left the trees barren, but the park was still beautiful at night. A small river ran through the inner gardens where the edelweiss grew plentifully during the summer months. It was nearly deserted with the exception of a few couples scattered here and there in amorous engagements. Carmilla lamented the lack of starlight since the skies above were overcast.

“I still can’t believe we actually climbed down the library,” Laura laughed, shaking her head.

“Well, when the alternative is breaking a lot of glass, you should take the path less traveled.”

“Robert Frost would be so pleased. Or disappointed... I think he lamented that decision.” She looked up at Carmilla with a cheerful smile before staring fixedly down at the path again. “Sorry for freezing up back there. Kinda pathetic, aren’t I?”

Carmilla said nothing. Laura didn’t blame her, because honestly, what was she going to say? _What kind of a nut-case would rather climb down a building instead of walk down a staircase in the dark?_ It even sounded ridiculous to Laura, which made her all the more self-conscious.

They walked in silence towards an old wooden bridge that spanned across the river towards the poplar trees. They had clearly decided to take the long way home since the path led west to the outer gardens.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Carmilla asked, her voice soft and unassuming.

Laura wasn’t entirely sure how to answer her. She tucked her face further into her scarf while staring fixedly at the ground.

Her fear of confined staircases wasn’t something she ever really talked about with anyone, and not just because it was secretly embarrassing or difficult to articulate to most people. Laura hated how vulnerable it made her feel, how debilitating it left her at times. It didn’t fit the narrative of how she _wanted_ to see herself: brave, determined, and 100% fearless. Maybe that’s why she wanted to become a journalist in the first place: nothing held Lois Lane back. The deepest pits and the deadliest villains couldn’t stop her from getting what she wanted.   

But Laura had far too many limitations, and things were never as simple as they were in comic books. She bit her lip, wondering if her nightmares were as vibrant and terrible as they were in fiction.

“When I was little,” she quietly began, “my parents took me to visit my cousins in Germany. I’d never met my aunt and uncle before and didn’t know that they had any children. They lived in a beautiful cottage out in the country where my uncle’s family had lived for generations. I was so excited. There would be kids my age to play with: two boys and a girl— I don’t remember their names.”

She paused at this, trying to place their faces in the faint recesses of her memory. More than likely, she had blocked them out like so many others from her childhood. “On my first day there, my cousins asked me to go and play hide-and-seek with them. There was an abandoned farm in the woods a ways out that they all loved to play in. I was beyond ecstatic, thinking we were going to some secret hideout in the forest. I didn’t have a lot of friends at the time, so you can imagine how thrilled I was.”

She swallowed deeply as her mouth had gone dry. She began to twist her fingers together. “It was kind of a setup. I guess they thought it would be funny to scare their cousin with the weird accent. When we got to the farmhouse, they told me I was ‘it’ and said I had to go and count downstairs. They took me to a staircase covered in spider webs that led down into an old root cellar. I obviously didn’t want to go, but the older boys insisted. They said I was a baby for being such a scaredy-cat, so I had to go down to prove myself.”

Laura had to stop talking for a moment. A cold chill rolled down her spine. It was amazing how vivid the memories still were, even if it had been fourteen years ago.

“It smelled horrible. I could hear all kinds of sounds coming from the darkness inside the cellar— things like animals scurrying and insects buzzing, and the staircase creaking loudly. When I reached the bottom steps, there were… _things_ I could just make out in the darkness. Eyes. Bones. Maggots. Fur. The kids had collected a pile of dead animals and left them there for me to find.” She took a slow, measured breath as she pictured the horrific scene. “I started screaming. It was the first time I’d ever seen a dead animal in my life. When I turned around and ran up the stairs, my cousins shut the door and quickly locked it on me. I could hear them laughing as I cried my eyes out and pounded on the door with my fists. They left me in the house and ran off to play somewhere down the road. There was no way out of the basement that I knew of. I was trapped in the darkness with only the sounds of insects and rats to keep me company.”  

She moved a hand up to her scarf and clenched it tightly to her neck. “They left me in their for three hours. Tiny little Laura, trapped in hell. When my parents and the rest of the adults eventually found me, I wasn’t really moving or saying much. I remember feeling vaguely ashamed that I had wet myself, but I guess I’d kind of shut down by then since everything else was a blur.”

She wiped an errant tear from her cheek, grateful she wasn’t full-on crying. “I never saw my cousins after that. My parents moved us to Canada shortly afterwards. But it’s obviously something I’ve never gotten over as stupid as this all must seem. A dark staircase scares me more than climbing down a four-story building.”     

It took some time for Laura to work up the courage to spare a glance at Carmilla. She had been perfectly silent during Laura’s account, and her expression was difficult to read. There was darkness in her eyes that matched how black and luminous they often appeared, but there was also something strangely raw visible in her countenance.

“I know what it’s like,” she quietly stated.

“You what?” Laura turned in confusion.

Carmilla studied the trees in front of them. “I know what it’s like to be trapped in the dark. Alone and going out of your mind.”

Laura could never have anticipated that response. She looked at Carmilla curiously. Had Carmilla experienced something similar in her past? The thought was strangely troubling.

“For what it’s worth,” Carmilla continued, “your fear isn’t stupid or misplaced. It takes courage to get up and learn how to live again once you’ve seen what hell is like. There’s nothing pathetic about it, cupcake— you’re a lot stronger than you realize. In fact, when all is said and done, you might be the strongest person I know.”

Laura felt her heart begin to flutter. There it was again: Carmilla being thoughtful, considerate, and beautiful, and Laura not knowing how to handle it.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. Why was this so damned difficult? How could Carmilla be all things wonderful when she was also a cold-blooded killer? Laura, for the life of her, just couldn’t let go of it no matter how desperately she wanted to. The hands that warmed and held her were also hands that were once covered in blood. But it wasn’t enough to keep a cautious distance when Laura _wanted_ to be close to her. She cared about Carmilla. She valued Carmilla. Everything about her drew her in.

“Can I ask you something?” said Laura abruptly, turning to face Carmilla with an anxious stare. They were standing at the center of the old wooden bridge with only the sounds of the night quietly framing them.

Carmilla had a curious look in her eyes as she rested both hands on the railings. The night so perfectly complimented her beauty as if she were born to darkness.

“That depends,” she said as evenly as possible, though there was a current of warning beneath her tone. “You’re perfectly welcome to ask me anything, but you might not like the answer.”

Laura hesitated. She wasn’t sure how to form the question without it sounding confrontational. They had come so far, both emotionally and intimately, that it seemed foolhardy to turn back now. But she needed to know— she _had_ to understand what was always at the back of her mind whenever Carmilla would smile or speak the words that managed to quicken Laura’s heart.

“Why did you do it?” she quietly asked.

“Why did I do what?” Carmilla replied.

Laura decided there was no other way to say it. “Why did you kill those people?”

Her question hung heavily in the silence between them as they stood there, still as statues. Its presence was a threat they both weighed carefully against whatever their relationship had become. Carmilla seemed torn between amusement and displeasure at Laura’s startling audacity, but she opted to indulge the former instead of the latter. For Laura’s sake, if nothing else.

She took a deliberate step towards Laura so there was hardly any space between them. The tension that hung in the air pressed heavily on Laura’s erratic heartbeat.

“If you’re going to ask me about my motives, then you’re not really asking the right questions,” Carmilla muttered. “Playing the reporter might also include examining what the press isn’t telling you about their deaths.” Her words were dark— smooth yet suggestive of a violence that Laura could only guess at. Carmilla continued: “For the sake of simplicity, let’s just say I prefer being the hunter instead of the hunted.”

Laura’s brows knit together in confusion. She didn’t know what to make of that statement. There were plenty of things the press wasn’t saying, but why was that significant?

All of this seemed irrelevant, however, when the meaning of Carmilla’s words set in.

“...Is someone trying to hurt you?” Laura asked in a small, troubled voice.

Carmilla laughed bitterly as she leisurely brushed past her, moving over to lean against the guardrailing. “Oh sweetheart... you have no idea how many people have tried to kill me. I think I’ve lost count over the years.” She stared out over the rushing water as if she could see beneath its surface. “I learned to survive by running and hiding; it’s practically become a second nature to me.”

Laura wasn’t sure how to process this information. Carmilla’s answers confused her more than anything. Who was after her? Why were they trying to kill her? Laura couldn’t make sense out of any of it.

She slowly walked up to the guardrails herself, trying to give Carmilla her space. "So what changed?” Laura asked, dreading Carmilla’s answer.

"What changed?” Carmilla sneered. “I decided to stop running. _That’s_ what changed for me, cupcake. I woke up one day and realized I was tired of waiting for the devil to come and find me. I was damned if I was going to run and hide from every bastard who thinks that they can kill me.” She looked over at Laura with sudden menace, and Laura had to step back. She was suddenly unsure about the malevolent gleam that had overtaken Carmilla’s countenance.

“Don’t you ever get tired of fighting the same battles over and over again?” said Carmilla. “Grating arguments you have with your father? A stupid dispute with your girlfriend?” She took yet another step closer to Laura, her eyes black and penetrating. “Aren’t you _tired_ of the fear that crushes you when you’re standing at the top of a darkened staircase?”

The words weren’t cruel, though it was plainly evident that Carmilla was trying to provoke her. Laura could only stare into her eyes, searching them for something she wasn’t sure of. There was so much anger in Carmilla’s gaze— so much hatred that Laura didn’t understand.

She placed a steady hand on Carmilla’s arm.“What happened to you?” she whispered.

Carmilla was taken aback by the gesture as she stared hopelessly at Laura. Whatever rage had been kindled by this discussion had fallen into precipitous confusion. She clenched her jaw, silently fighting whatever demons lay buried within her skin, and when Laura thought she was going to pull away from her, Carmilla quietly whispered, “Pain.”

Laura’s heart clenched at the word. Her hand grasped Carmilla more tightly. She had said everything without saying anything at all, and Laura had never felt so helpless.  

“Carm…” she said, shaking her head softly.

“Don’t…” said Carmilla with firm insistence. “Don’t try and justify the things that I’ve done. Don’t pretend that I’m not what I am.”

But Laura was already standing on the bridge, staring deeply into the eyes of a haunted killer. “What are you?” she asked with a softness she didn’t know she was even capable of.  

Carmilla looked strangely pained by the question, as if Laura was forcing her to confront a truth. Layers upon layers of her hatred were unraveling, and Laura longed to expose what was underneath it all. Carmilla looked down at the ground for a quiet moment before calmly shaking her head. “You know, I’m not sure I remember anymore,” she said with startling honesty.

Laura closed the distance between them, forcing Carmilla to look up at her: “I think you do,” she said with quiet certainty. “I think you know exactly who you are.” She was pleased when Carmilla seemed to soften at this, and watched her expression very carefully.

“Maybe,” said Carmilla with a tilt of her head. “I guess that remains to be seen.”

“‘Yet knowing how way leads on to way, do you doubt if you should ever come back?” Laura smiled teasingly at Carmilla, and everything felt lighter between the two of them.

Carmilla studied her with a strange kind of awe before her lips curled up into a smile again. “You’re cute, you know that?”

Laura blushed. “You may have mentioned it once or twice.”

Carmilla laughed as she shook her head. “You may just be the death of me, cupcake.”

“Or, we may be the death of each other.”

They both seemed content with that.

\----

The short walk back to Laura’s apartment was spent in companionable silence. There was nothing wanting in the stillness of the evening; no expectation for anything greater, except for the stars. The cold hint of snow touched the gentle breeze that rustled the branches on the tree-tops, yet the chill was a welcomed, pleasing sensation. The clouds kept shifting high above them.

Laura would glance over at Carmilla from time to time, hoping to catch a glimpse of the quiet wonder that Laura currently felt. Her companion looked thoughtful, and far less guarded than Laura had ever seen her before. The sights and sounds of the crisp autumn evening seemed so perfectly matched to Carmilla’s breathing, and Laura wondered, not for the first time, if they had known each other in a previous life.

They stopped beneath the lamplight hanging above the doors to Laura’s building. Laura looked up, trying to hide her disappointment, knowing their evening had come to an end. She turned to Carmilla, wanting to say so many things yet struggling to find a way to say any of them. Carmilla only watched her, as if words could never convey what was written so deeply in her stare.

Laura smiled and rubbed her hand nervously up and down her arm. “Thanks for walking me home tonight, Carm. And… helping me at the library. Thank you for everything.”

Carmilla’s smile was genuine. Beautiful. As always, it left Laura undone. It felt like too much... It _was_ too much. She _really_ needed to say her goodbyes.

Just as Laura turned towards the door, she felt Carmilla’s hand on her wrist. Her hold was gentle, warm but insistent, as she gently brought Laura back to face her.  

Laura could feel the change in the air— how everything seemed to be standing still. A magnificent warmth spread slowly through her chest, and she had given up on steadying her heart-rate. She knew Carmilla was watching her intensely, waiting for Laura to meet her gaze. But Laura could only stare at the ground. She felt like she would die if she didn’t.

A pale finger slid beneath her chin, slowly tilting it upwards. She closed her eyes, knowing full well that she was headed towards her own oblivion. She felt the sensation of impossibly soft fingers pressing against her skin, slowly moving along her neck until they slid gently up into her hair. The touch was a memory burned into her flesh that she had never been able to forget, and it called to Laura like a Siren’s song, luring her calmly towards her death.

Laura finally opened her eyes, unable to resist any longer. The light reflected in Carmilla’s eyes was as bright as the stars in the firmament. Nothing else existed, no other beauty as dark or as impossibly refined, yet Carmilla was watching her like Laura was at the center of all of God’s creations. The fear that had kept her at a careful distance was now calmly and fatally enveloping her, and Laura had never longed for death as much as she did in that moment.

The space between them started to narrow— the seconds ticked past as Carmilla leaned in. Laura’s heart raced in desperation as she closed her eyes for the second time. She felt Carmilla’s breath against her cheek before a soft pair of lips met her skin, holding her, melting every nameless fear in her heart with firm, maddening insistence.

It was all Laura could do to stop herself from fainting as a thousand sensations enveloped her all at once. The sound of Carmilla’s breathing… the scent of her perfume… the feel of her mouth against her cheek. Her hands reached up to take hold of Carmilla’s arms as she felt her body begin to tremble. The heat from her touch was searing Laura’s skin in a way that was both heavenly and torturous.  

She pressed another kiss to Laura’s cheek: a warm, silken caress. She was inching closer to Laura’s parted mouth with languid, heated persistence. Their faces leaned together where they knew they would find each other, driven by an instinctual pulse, and before their mouths could connect to each other, cold reality washed over them.  

They pulled back almost at the exact same instant, each with a startled breath. Their eyes were wide, their breathing was heavy, and the cold wind hit them like a gale-storm.

Laura was horrified, confused, and inflamed, which must have shown visibly on her face. Carmilla seemed just as upset about the encounter as if she'd acted without her own consent.

“Goodnight,” Laura muttered as she quickly staggered backwards in a panicked, desperate haze. She reached blindly for the doorknob before disappearing quickly into the dim interior of her building.

She never noticed the car that was parked a few feet away across the street. But Danny sat there, gripping her steering wheel with bone-white knuckles, quietly seething in anger.


	6. Discord

Laura leaned against the wall of the shower, letting the warm water run over her head and down her back and shoulders. It helped to take the chill out of her skin and ease some of the tension out of her body. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was unsteady, each breath a little heavier than the last. It was easier to focus on these small sensations as her thoughts were a million miles away.     

Or, more accurately, they were fixed on a girl with dark, depthless eyes who had walked her home after one of the most surreal nights of Laura’s entire life. Laura could still feel Carmilla’s lips on her cheek, the touch of her hands on her face. It was enough to make her turn the hot water down so the temperature was just a little bit colder. So many images were frantically blurring together in the churning mess of her mind. The darkness. The descent. Carmilla’s beautiful smile. Whispers and startling revelations.

Laura rested her forehead on the tile under the heavy spray of the water.

They had almost kissed.  

She had almost kissed her.

Laura was more confused now than she’d ever been.

She placed a steadying hand on the wall as she was starting to feel a bit dizzy. There were so many things she could have anticipated over the last few weeks, but she’d never been prepared for _this_. The root of her confusion was firmly centered on her awareness of just how easily this had all happened, like everything they’d shared was a natural progression to some undetermined conclusion. Sure, their strange and unexpected chemistry was a thing that had been present from the beginning, yet this went further beyond heightened encounters or lengthy conversations in coffee shops. She’d tried to dismiss it, or at least place it in a context that seemed far less problematic for them both. It was all so much simpler when Carmilla was a charming killer that Laura could observe from a careful distance.

But she couldn’t ignore what had almost happened between them, nor could she dismiss how she’d responded to it. A sense of guilt might have been appropriate if she wasn’t still reeling from the shock of it all. She’d never really taken Carmilla’s flirtations seriously, though they’d always managed to fluster her. Carmilla just seemed like she was naturally flirty with everyone— gifted with the innate ability to seduce whomever she came into contact with. Laura had seen it often enough in the places they’d been together: how all eyes in a room were instantly drawn to Carmilla’s beauty, how she left the most articulate person speechless. Or maybe Laura just naturally ascribed flirtation into everything Carmilla did; her voice had an inherent seductive quality to it that matched the alluring charm of her personality.

And yes, Laura knew she was as helpless to that charm as anyone else they had encountered, but she never really believed that Carmilla thought of her as anything more than a small, amusing diversion.

Laura slid her fingers across her scalp and down the sides of her neck.

Maybe she had just been naive from the beginning; there was no mistaking the look Carmilla had given her before they’d said goodnight.

She slowly began to lather the soap over her arms and shoulders, only vaguely aware of the sound of a door opening and closing somewhere in the distance. She was considering pouring herself a nightcap to help calm her nerves before going to bed. With the way she was feeling, it was highly unlikely that sleep would come easily that night. 

She didn’t have time to prepare for the shock of someone entering her bathroom, not until the curtain was roughly pulled back, causing Laura to nearly fall out of the shower. She shrieked as her hands moved to grasp onto the tiles before she could slip and break her neck. It took her a second to realize Danny was standing in front of her, looking windswept and utterly furious.

 _“Danny!?”_ she shrieked after frantically moving to cover herself. “What in the _hell_ are you _doing?!”_

The look on Danny’s face was cold enough to freeze every drop of water clinging to Laura’s body. “Good question, Hollis. I think we need to talk about just what in the _hell_ is going on.”

“What?!” Laura gasped as she shut the water off and reached for the nearest towel. “What on earth are you talking about?”

Danny gave an incredulous laugh. “Are you seriously going to play dense right now? Or are you really going to make me describe what I just saw not ten minutes ago?”

Laura’s stomach suddenly turned to lead. The guilt must have been written all over her face. It was all the confirmation Danny needed as she started to shake her head. “You can’t even deny it, can you?”

“What do you want me to deny?” said Laura frankly. “That you saw me with a friend? That we said goodnight to each other before I walked back up to my apartment?”

“Don’t even _pretend_ that that wasn’t anything! I saw what happened, Laura. I was waiting for you to get home— outside— right across the street where I had the _perfect_ view of your little makeout session...”

“And your answer to this was to come barging into my apartment to scare me half to death in the shower?!”

“You’re damn right it was! I just found out my girlfriend’s been cheating on me! What in the hell did you expect?!”

Laura inhaled, trying to calm herself down. “Can we please have this discussion after I get dressed?”

Danny held out her hand towards the doorway, waiting for Laura to get the hint. Laura gave her a withering look before she stepped around Danny and into the hallway. She heard Danny follow her into the bedroom, slamming the door behind them and rattling the things on her desk. She obviously had no intention of giving Laura any privacy, and it made Laura more than a little upset. She grabbed her gray sweatpants, a pair of underwear, and her blue Superman hoodie from one of her dressers. She kept her back firmly to Danny as she quickly started to get dressed, though she could still feel Danny’s eyes staring daggers at her from the other side of her bedroom. She knew this petty display of modesty wasn’t helping to calm things down, but she didn’t appreciate being accosted in the shower, no matter how angry her girlfriend was.

“So who is she?” Danny demanded, barely keeping the hostility out of her voice.

“I’ve already told you,” said Laura coldly, “she’s just a friend. And we weren’t “making out” with each other.”

“Is that the crap you’re gonna spin right now?”

“I’m being honest with you, Danny! She walked me home! Nothing else happened!”

“That didn’t look like _nothing_ , Laura— her mouth was all over you!”

“She kissed my cheek! She’s not the first person that’s ever done that! We’re in Europe, for heaven’s sake.”

“That was a _little_ more involved than a goodnight kiss between friends, Hollis— European or otherwise. And why do I not even _know_ this girl? How long has this been going on for?”

Laura finally turned to face her, starting to lose her temper. “Since when have you ever expressed an interest in meeting any of my friends, or spending time with them? I _begged_ you to come to dinner with my writing group, but you opted out like you always do because “something else came up.” I have tried _continually_ to include you in my life no matter how much you regularly disapprove of it. Heck, I’d be shocked if you even knew the names of anyone I still keep in touch with from high school!”

Danny gave her a disbelieving look. “So wait— this is all on _me?!_ I don’t have a checklist of every person you hang out with every day, and this suddenly gives you license to cheat on me?!”

“I was _not_ cheating on you, and I wasn’t saying that. You asked me why you didn’t know this girl, and I gave you a valid reason.”

“There is a _big_ damn difference between talking to friends from Canada and getting felt-up by some chick outside your building! Is this what you were doing when you were supposed to be “studying” all night? Is she why I haven’t seen you in a week?”

“ _Really_ , Danny?!” Laura exclaimed, taking a step closer so that Danny was now towering over her. “I spend one week trying to catch up on my homework and you’re _guilting_ me about this? Do you have any idea how stressed out I’ve been? How much work I’m buried under right now? Did you even _once_ consider my feelings when you started telling me off for ignoring you? I have tried my hardest to respect how much time you have to devote to other things: sports, the Summers, the classes you’re TA-ing— I have _never_ tried to guilt you about any of it! Now you have the audacity to accuse me of neglecting you when I spend _one damn night_ at the library?! Forgive me for actually giving a crap about my education even though I’m just a stupid freshman!”

“Let’s not move the goalposts here, Laura...” Danny seethed in a rage. “I just saw you with your hands all over another girl and you still haven’t told me who she is!”

Laura was shaking. “ _You’re not listening!_ I told you— she’s just a friend!" 

Danny snorted derisively. “Right... I knew girls who were ‘just friends’ in high school. Who the hell do you think you’re kidding, Laura?”

Tears were forming in Laura’s eyes. “Don’t mock me, Danny…”

“Then answer my question! Were you or were you not kissing that other girl?!”

“Did you see me kiss her?! Did you see her kiss me? I pulled back before it ever happened!”

“So you admit that she wanted to kiss you? You admit that she was trying to make a move?”

Laura suddenly felt unsure of herself. “I don’t… I don’t know what Carmilla was feeling.”

 _“Carmilla?”_ Danny sneered. “So the bitch has a name... How befitting that gothic sleazebag.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” said Laura, shrinking back a bit further. “I was stuck at the library and she got me out when they locked the building on me. She volunteered to walk me home to make sure that I was safe. That’s the end of it. She kissed me goodnight. I don’t know what more you want me to say.”

Danny quietly shook her head with a disbelieving look on her face. Small tears had formed in her eyes as well, and it was breaking Laura’s heart. “I can’t believe it,” she quietly laughed. “It’s like the past three months haven’t meant anything.” She took a step back and stared blankly at the ceiling. “Wow, I’ve been such an idiot...”

“Danny...” said Laura, genuinely hurt as her own tears fell more freely. “Please don’t say that. You know that I love you.”

“Do I?” said Danny bitterly. “I don’t even know who you are anymore. You said as much yourself. And since you can obviously do better than me, then what am I still even doing here?”

Danny turned around to leave when Laura frantically grabbed her hand.

“No, please! Please don’t go, Danny! Please... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t be upset with me...”

Danny turned and gave her a look with one hand still on the doorknob. “Why should I stay? How can I trust you when you’ve kept all this hidden from me?”

“I’m sorry,” Laura pleaded. “It won’t ever happen again. I’ll be as honest as I can with you… I promise.”

Danny folded her arms over her chest and turned back to fully face her. “That’s not good enough.”

Laura felt helpless. “I don’t know what else I can—”

“Stop seeing her.”

There was a long pause. Laura felt as though the wind had been violently knocked out of her. “What?”

“She's just a friend,” Danny insisted. “Those were your exact words. And if she can't be trusted to keep her hands off of you, then you need to stop seeing her.”

“But—”

 _“What_ , Laura? Do you want me trust you? Give you the benefit of the doubt? Then I don’t want you anywhere near Carmilla again. It's the only way we can both move on from this.”

Laura’s heart nearly seized in that moment. Her breath stilled in her throat. Everything was happening much too fast, and she had no way of controlling or stopping it. But the thought of losing Danny was beyond unthinkable as she looked up into her red-rimmed eyes. Danny clearly needed reassurance, and Laura didn’t know how else to give it to her.

Her face fell, and she looked down at the floor, feeling tired and utterly spent. “Okay…” Laura whispered in a small, defeated tone. “I won't see her again.”

Danny let out a weary sigh as her hands fell to her sides. She stood there for several minutes before quietly stepping forward to wrap her arms around Laura. Laura weakly returned the embrace; she was feeling utterly drained. She buried her face in Danny’s chest, wishing the night were over already. She felt Danny’s fingers running gently through her hair, softly untangling the still-wet strands. It was all in an effort to calm them both down, but she could still hear Danny’s rapid heartbeat.

“What am I going to do with you, Hollis?” said Danny softly. Affectionately.

Laura didn’t say anything in return, preferring to just let Danny hold her.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Danny whispered.

“It’s okay,” Laura mumbled. A kind of numbness had enveloped her body, adding to the exhaustion she currently felt.

The two stood there for several long moments before Laura carefully slid out of Danny’s arms. “Sorry…” she said. “I really need some water. Do you want anything?”

“Maybe,” said Danny as she sat down on the bed, pulling Laura gently towards her. “I want to stay, but I can’t say that I’m all that thirsty for water right now.”

Laura opened her mouth to respond, but stopped when Danny’s hands pressed on her waist. Her thumbs started moving in lazy circles over Laura’s hip bones, tickling the skin there with familiar purpose. There was no mistaking what Danny was in the mood for— Laura knew that look in her eyes all too well. She should have expected this, given how most of their arguments usually ended.

She placed her hands on Danny’s shoulders with a quiet look of uncertainty. “It’s been a long day,” said Laura softly.  

Danny smirked and brought Laura even closer, hands still firmly holding her hips. “I think we’re in for a long night, too... unless you have other plans.”

Laura swallowed. She really needed some water.

Danny’s hands slid up under her hoodie.

“Your hands are cold...” said Laura quietly, feeling the chill on her skin.

“Then you’ll just have to warm them up for me, Hollis,” said Danny with a mischievous grin.

She pulled Laura into a slow, heated kiss that was equal parts soft and possessive. Danny’s lips eagerly claimed her own as if she was trying to dispel everything that had happened. Her hands slid out from under Laura’s hoodie and found the zipper on the front of it. She leisurely took her time zipping it down as if the night were only just beginning.

Laura closed her eyes and allowed each sensation to filter through her senses. She let Danny touch her, kiss her, and undress her, as her thoughts drifted off into nothingness.

\-----

It wasn’t difficult for Laura to avoid seeing Carmilla— the latter had vanished without a trace. There was no sign of her at the coffee shop nor anywhere else in town that Laura had been known to run into her. It shouldn’t have upset her as much as it did, given that this was where they were headed. Laura had wanted to try and explain things to her, but she was never given the opportunity.

A few short texts from Laura went unanswered after the first few days of silence. Laura was even brave enough to actually try calling her, but the line just rang without going to voicemail. Trips to the café were now spent alone, watching and waiting by the window. For someone who had committed to never seeing her friend again, Laura seemed to be failing spectacularly in her execution of self-imposed abstinence.

She wondered, vaguely, if Carmilla was just as upset about the kiss that had nearly happened between them, though perhaps _“upset”_ was too strong a word for how Laura truthfully felt about it. In all of the drama she had been through that night, she hadn’t given much thought to Carmilla’s reaction. They’d shared an unguarded moment before Carmilla had pulled away, staring at Laura in a dazed kind of shock. There had been fear in her eyes— Laura was certain of it— but she didn't understand its source. Maybe Carmilla was in a relationship as well, though the thought failed to comfort Laura.

In truth, Laura was miserable. A heavy certainty had been placed before her: she desperately missed Carmilla. She didn’t even bother trying to deny this to herself since she was the one forced to deal with these feelings. Carmilla had become a permanent fixture in her life, and Laura was only just starting to realize how much she cared about her. Whatever guilt had been weighing on her shoulders had gradually transformed into painful regret. She missed the way Carmilla would smile whenever Laura told her stupid facts. She missed how fast her mind would move whenever Carmilla engaged her on different subjects. She missed how easy it was to spend a day together, drinking cocoa between comfortable silences. Mostly, she just missed the way Carmilla would look at her whenever she thought that Laura wasn’t watching.

The recent revelation of Carmilla’s dangerous associations didn’t help to ease Laura’s concerns about her. Carmilla had said there were people who wanted to kill her, and Laura had no way of knowing if she was safe. Were the people still chasing her? Had Carmilla gone into hiding? She seemed adamant that she would never do that again. Carmilla had killed without much remorse, and that thought was utterly disconcerting.

What could have happened in Carmilla’s brief lifetime to warrant so much fear and bloodshed? Sadly, it looked like Laura was never going to know. She doubted she would even see Carmilla again.

Conversely, in a different turn of events, she began seeing Danny much more frequently. Nearly every free moment Danny had during the day was now spent in Laura’s company. She walked with Laura to each of her classes and texted her constantly throughout the day. Most nights were spent at Laura’s apartment if she couldn’t coerce Laura to stay at the Summer house. She had also insisted on being present during the skype sessions Laura often had with her father. Her dad liked Danny. They got on with each other well since they shared mutual anxieties over Laura.

It was all too clear that their terrible argument had had an effect on Danny. Laura wasn’t sure if it was a subtle display of ownership or a just a case of her girlfriend being needy. This had all begun the morning after their fight when Danny sleepily joined Laura in the kitchen. Laura was up early making a light breakfast since Danny had planning meetings with the Summer Society on Sundays. Danny, however, was more interested in distracting her with several lingering kisses down her neck. She proceeded to inform Laura that she was cancelling the meeting so that she could spend the entire day with her girlfriend.

Nothing had ever been the same since.

Laura was appreciative of Danny’s efforts at first, though she quickly started to find them a bit smothering. Danny had obviously taken her words to heart when Laura pointed out that Danny wasn’t giving her the same respect when it came to making demands on each other’s time. Danny, however, had interpreted this as a plea for her to spend more time with Laura. It wasn’t really the message Laura had been trying to convey, but she wasn’t going to make an issue out of it. Things at school were just too stressful at present, and the last thing Laura wanted was more contention. Danny was trying her best to be a better girlfriend, and Laura needed to meet her halfway there.

So life went on with only the slightest variations in the day-to-day monotony of student life. But the closer to normalcy that Laura returned to, the further away from happiness it carried her.

\----

“I still can’t believe Germany took the cup last year. I thought the Netherlands would take us all the way.”

“Okay— first of all? You aren’t Dutch, Jeep. Second of all, this was the same German team that handily _slaughtered_ Brazil in their own stadium. If _anyone_ was going to win last year, it was going to be my kinsman. Full stop.”

“Ha! You haven’t lived in Germany long enough to be anything other than stuck-up about your beer.”

LaFontaine and JP were bickering back and forth as they watched an old soccer match on the TV. They’d have probably slapped Laura for having the _audacity_ to call it soccer, but she was determinedly Canadian about her sports. They were all sitting together—Perry included—at their favorite German delicatessen on main street. It was only a block away from their building, making it one of the group’s frequent haunts. They were sitting at the bar with hot food and drinks on an early Saturday afternoon, enjoying the relative quiet brought on by the heavy snowstorm outside. A cold front had rolled in the night before, blanketing the streets with new-fallen snow. Laura was watching it fall in swirling patterns with quiet, distracted interest.

“Wasn’t your grandmother Dutch?” Perry inquired in a slightly disaffected tone. She was the daughter of Bohemian artists from New York, and she couldn’t have cared less about soccer.

“She was indeed,” JP replied. “Born and raised in Rotterdam. I’m Dutch enough to root for the team when England isn’t playing well.”

“You’re quiet today, frosh,” said LaFontaine abruptly, startling Laura from her thoughts. “Finals got you stressed?”

“Sure…” said Laura, playing idly with the frosting on her cake.

“Hmm,” said Perry over the rim of her wine glass. “Our Laura Eileen is being vague.”

“That’s usually code for ‘Something Distressing is Happening on the Show I’m Currently Binging-watching,’” said LaFontaine.

“It’s not that...” said Laura, pushing the cake away. “It’s just— it’s been a hard week, is all.”

“Is that because your mulish, over-protective girlfriend is trying to move in with you?” said LaF.

“ _Stop it,”_ said Perry with a pointed look at LaF before Laura had a chance to respond. LaF sipped their beer with a derisive glare. They were not a fan of Danny.

“You _do_ have the look of a woman who’s been tossed and tormented under the somber strains of the heart,” said JP poetically. “Come on, Hollis— you’ve been miserable for days. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”

Laura looked up at him, searching his earnest expression for a sense of some understanding. He placed a cool hand on top of hers, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t know what to do,” Laura whimpered in a soft, pathetic voice. “Why is being an adult so hard? I never signed up for this.”

“Oh, sweetie,” said Perry with a heartfelt smile, “things will get easier, I promise. This is your first semester at college and your first year away from home; it always takes a little while to find your footing.”

“It’s more than that,” Laura continued. “I’m starting to second-guess myself about everything. My priorities, my love life, each and every conviction I’ve had about the world since I was twelve…”

“Whoa,” said LaF. “That’s _definitely_ some second-guessing. Maybe you should consider a philosophy major.”    

“Ugh... the only people more pretentious than art students are the philosophy majors,” Perry drawled.

“It’s just…” Laura began, “have you ever been weirdly conflicted about your own moral perceptions of right and wrong? Like, you’re so used to seeing the world in black and white that you don’t know what to do when you’re confronted with gray?”

“Frosh, our world’s a giant _bucket_ of gray. These dorks and I are elephants at this point.”

“I want to be a koala,” said JP absently, his gaze still fixed on the television.

“So what exactly has you morally conflicted?” LaF asked while stealing food from JP’s plate. “Did you get a little over-eager with the 'complimentary' bread samples down at the bakery?”

“ _No_ ...” said Laura with an amused expression. She sighed. “I don’t know what I’m saying. Maybe my problem is that I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to feel conflicted about. Like, say you know someone that did something terrible, but you kind of understand why they did it, and maybe you feel conflicted about _not_ being more conflicted than you probably _should_ be about it. Does that make sense?”

Perry took a slow drink of her wine as she arched an eyebrow at Laura. LaFontaine exchanged a look with JP before taking another bite of his sauerkraut.

“What?” said Laura, momentarily confused. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Nope,” said LaF, chewing their food slowly.

“ _Wrong_ isn’t the word that comes to mind,” said JP.

“No seriously, guys... I need an opinion here. Am I going crazy, or what?”

LaFontaine swallowed. “Does this have anything to do with the hot girl you’ve been seeing for the last few weeks?”

Laura felt her skin flush red. She gave LaF a wide-eyed look. “What?” she whispered. “What are you talking about?”

“You have the tact of a four-year old,” Perry scolded LaF.

“Betty told us she saw you having drinks at the _Annektieren_ a few weeks back with a dark-haired girl, who— and I quote— ‘was a solid 10.5 on the hotness scale.’” LaFontaine studied Laura’s reaction as Laura stared back at them, flabbergasted. “And... she might have mentioned that the girl was having eye-sex with you practically the entire time. Oh. She thought she also spotted you on Evensen with the same smoking hottie last Saturday. You’ve earned yourself quite the reputation, Hollis. Betty was almost proud of you.”

Laura groaned as she collapsed on top of the counter, her head resting heavily in her arms. She was utterly mortified. Her prissy neighbor was spreading rumors about her (non-existent) relationship with Carmilla.

“There, there, darling,” said JP soothingly, placing a hand on Laura’s back. “Whatever indiscretions you may or may not be committing shouldn't stop you from enjoying your cake.”

“Seriously, frosh,” LaFontaine continued as Laura dejectedly sat up again. “If you've met someone who’s tipped the scales of hotness, you should _definitely_ be celebrating with cake.”

“We’re just friends,” said Laura quietly, staring down at her hands.

“Well, if that suits you,” said JP nonchalantly. “We don't really care either way.”

Noting Laura’s confused expression, Perry decided to chime in. “What this loveable asshat is trying to tell you is that it’s fine if you’re feeling conflicted. We’re not here to judge you. We don’t care if you’ve done something that toes the line of moral restraint. We love your magnificent, perfectly-rounded butt and nothing you could say is going to change that. So if you want to talk about it, you can. If you don’t? We’re not going to push you. It isn’t our business; we only brought you here so we could feed you cake and take advantage of you.”

Laura smiled as JP reached over and pulled Laura into a hug. “Yes. Exactly. What Perry just said. You know we adore you, Hollis.”

“If you killed my dad, I’d probably still come and visit you in jail,” said LaF. “But please don’t kill my parents, Laura. It would make things awkward for a while.”

Laura sighed. “Thanks, you guys. It’s just… I don’t really know what to tell you. I met this girl about a month ago under some very challenging circumstances. But we kind of connected almost instantly, and I’ve never experienced that with anyone. I mean, she’s _beautiful_ , but she’s also really thoughtful and intelligent and charming and— kind of dangerous.” Laura stopped herself at that last part; the words had come from out of nowhere. Since when was Laura attracted to danger? (Apart from investigative journalism, of course.)

“So is your dangerous beauty a student here as well?” JP subtly inquired.

“No... I don’t think so. But she does travel a lot. I’m not even sure if she’s still in Silas.” Laura paused. “We used to meet up at the coffee shop in-between my free periods. Sometimes I’d also see her at the market or the bookstore in town on the weekends.”

“You _used_ to?” LaF asked for clarification.

Laura bit her lip. “Well, everything kind of went south when she walked me home last weekend. I nearly got myself trapped in the library when she showed up and rescued me. Then we spent the night talking about our pasts, and I guess we were both feeling a little vulnerable. She... _may_ have tried to kiss me, but we stopped it before it happened. Unfortunately, Danny saw the whole thing.”

LaFontaine whistled. “Yeah… _that’s_ not awkward. I can only guess how Lawrence responded.”

“She wasn’t happy, and I can’t really blame her. We had a really awful fight about it.”

“The natural outcome being that you agreed never to see the girl again?” JP asked.

Laura shrugged. “Danny wasn’t wrong. I... I think I might have been falling for her.”

“So what if you were?” said Perry hotly. “Laura, you’re a freaking college student. Part of the whole adult experience is finding people you connect with. That can involve a lot of trial and error— especially when it comes to dating.”

“But I _like_ Danny,” Laura insisted. “She’s the textbook perfect girlfriend. She’s smart, funny, athletic, pretty, and, like, all kinds of righteous. Plus she’s also accomplished and successful and anyone would give their right arm to be with her.”

“Thanks for that, but I’m keeping my arms,” said LaFontaine, drinking their beer.

“Your compatibility with someone isn’t defined by their list of accomplishments or whether they look good to you on paper,” Perry said. “It’s more honest and visceral because there’s an element of the irrational that plays into attraction. Chemistry only happens when you take the raw elements of someone and can fuse them together with your own. It doesn’t matter if everything at the table seems like it shouldn’t fit together. How else do you explain the formation of our existence in the literal chaos of the universe?”   

Laura considered Perry’s words carefully, her thoughts returning to Carmilla once again. LaF, however, was grinning cheekily at Perry. “You just used a science analogy.”

Perry arched an eyebrow at LaF as she swirled the contents of her wine glass. “Easy, tiger. We’re still in public.”

“As if that’s ever stopped them before,” JP smirked.

“It doesn’t even matter,” Laura said with a heavy, dejected sigh. “I doubt I’m ever going to see her again.”

“You let her down gently?” JP asked.

“I never had the chance to even _talk_ with her, JP. She just— up and disappeared. And I know it’s not like talking was going to fix everything, but...”

“...Having some closure would have been nice,” Perry finished for her.

Laura looked crestfallen. Perry smiled as she slid her cake in front of her again. “Cheer up, sweetheart. Things will work out. And if they don’t, come and drink yourself silly with us.”

Laura chuckled softly at that. “Thanks, Perr. You guys are the best. And don’t get me wrong... I _want_ to make things work with Danny. We’ve been together for three months now, so that has to count for _something.”_

“It’s certainly a testament to your high tolerance for pain,” LaF glibly remarked. JP shoved them with an elbow to their gut. “Ow! Dude! I never said I could handle it!”

“Calm down, children,” said Perry curtly. “And Laura, it’s great if you want to work things out. But if I were you, I’d really sit down and ask myself what I wanted before I made a decision.”

Laura moodily sat back in her chair. “I want to bury myself in fluffy blankets and sleep for the next three months.”

“That’s a solid plan,” Lafontaine nodded. “But what if your ‘10.5’ comes back?”

Laura looked skeptical. “That doesn’t seem likely.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that, Hollis,” said JP. “If the girl’s had a taste of your incomparable charms, she won't be able to stay away for very long.”

Laura exhaled. “Maybe. Whatever. I can’t worry about that right now. Finals are going to start next week and the mad crash of studying will be commencing shortly. Oh! I forgot to tell you: the Summer Society and Zetas are having a massive get-together next weekend. It’s kind of a traditional ‘mid-finals hurrah’ and you guys are all invited.”

“ _What?”_ said JP with an amused expression. “Did you just invite us to a college frat party?”

“Um, yeah...” said Laura a bit awkwardly. “I know it’s kind of random, but it could be fun! Danny specifically asked me to invite my friends; I think she’s trying to be more inclusive. Anyway, if _I_ can’t get out of going to this, then it would be nice to have you guys there with me.”

“Can you imagine the two of us at a frat party?” LaF smirked, nudging JP in the ribs. “What in the heck would we even do?”

“Get into all of the flammable substances while taking culture samples from the bedrooms?”

They started chuckling.

“Come on, guys!” Laura whined. “Don’t you trust me to show you a good time?”

“Fraternizing with a bunch of drunk college students doesn’t exactly do it for me, frosh.”

“But Perry’s a college student!"

Perry laughed. “Laura, I’m _34_. My idea of a good weekend involves cooking and wine, or maybe watching an old movie with these beautiful morons.”

“Besides,” said LaF, “I question the wisdom of partying after dark these days. I mean, yeah— I know this is Silas and all— but the death toll of late is a bit disconcerting.”

Laura’s attention suddenly shifted to horror. “What? What do you mean?”

“Uh... the number of murders we’ve had lately? Didn’t you hear about the bodies they pulled out of the canal two days ago?”

Laura turned as white as a sheet. Her mind had suddenly conjured up a hundred terrible thoughts in vivid detail. “What? Who where they? How were they killed?!”

“They were three John Does,” said LaF with a shrug. “I haven’t really kept up with the news reports lately, but the police reckon the dudes were in their forties. Hard to identify since they were missing their heads... which _could_ also explain how they were killed.”

Laura wasn’t sure if she felt sick or relieved. It was probably a mixture of both.  “Did they…” she stammered, “do they have a suspect?”

JP drank his beer. “They never do.”

A cold gust of wind suddenly greeted the four of them when the door to the restaurant flew open. “Laura!” said Danny as she quickly stepped in, brushing the snowflakes off of her coat. “I thought you’d be here!”

It took Laura a moment to focus on her girlfriend. She was still reeling from the news LaF had shared with her. “Hey...” she said. “Weren’t we meeting at 1:30?”

“I didn’t want to wait,” Danny grinned. She walked up to Laura and gave her a kiss before turning to greet the others. “Hey guys. I hope you don’t mind if I kidnap Laura a little early for our movie date this afternoon.”

“By all means,” said JP politely. “You’re looking well today, Miss Lawrence.”

“Thank you. And I don’t need the _‘Miss’_ with my name. Are you ready to go, Hollis?”

“Can she finish her cake?” said LaFontaine mildly. Perry gave LaF a warning look.

“We’ll just get it to go. Is that alright with you, babe?”

“Sure, I was done with it anyway,” Laura smiled. She got up from the bar and reached for her coat, trying to look cheerful and upbeat. “Thanks for lunch today, guys. Can I catch up with you later?”

“You know where we live,” said Perry, smiling.

Laura picked up her hat and gloves and headed out the door with her girlfriend. The weather was cold, but somehow it felt harsher as it penetrated deep beneath her skin.

 


	7. The Brighter Starlight

Early on in the three-and-a-half months she had spent at Silas University, Laura had decided (rather emphatically) that she was not a fan of wild college frat parties. It was one of many insufferable instances where popular media had failed her given the number of movies and TV shows that exaggerated the charms of the rowdy college experience.

Admittedly, when she’d first moved to Austria several months ago, the prospect of letting go of her inhibitions had been tempting after years spent under her father’s roof. Opportunities for debauchery during her teenage years had been limited since she didn’t exactly run with the wildest crowds. High school had been a fun though challenging experience for her, but college promised better things to come. It was the start of her adult life and an opportunity to reinvent herself by making new friends and loosening up a little.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for her to realize that she wasn’t suited for the wild party lifestyle. Perhaps that was the influence of her father rubbing off on her, or maybe she was just a boring person to begin with. But the party scene held few of the charms that Laura had anxiously anticipated when Danny introduced her to the Summer Society crasher way back at the beginning of September. It had been way too noisy and _way_ too crowded, which was amusing for all of fifteen minutes. Then she’d spent the rest of the night clinging to Danny to avoid getting hit on by drunken strangers.

As the semester wore on, she avoided the Summer/Zeta parties unless Danny insisted on her attendance. Getting out of them was difficult and usually involved bribing her girlfriend with a lot of creative alternatives. She knew, deep down, that she probably wasn’t trying as hard as she could to be more social; it’s just that she prefered a more intimate setting with friends and/or peers she had something in common with. A casual night in playing Cards Against Humanity with JP, Perry, and LaF was infinitely more appealing than having a stranger grind on her with terrible music blasting through the loudspeakers. Friday nights with the Summer Society and Zetas promised headaches and a lot of incessant posturing. It was all cheap beer and sex in the bedrooms and students making asses out of themselves. Laura didn’t have much of an interest in any of it, but she bore it all for the sake of her girlfriend. These were Danny’s peers, so Laura was obligated to make an appearance.

And tonight had been no exception.

She stepped out of the car and thanked her driver before turning in the direction of the Summer House. It was freezing outside as snow still covered the ground, but thankfully the skies overhead were clear. She stuffed her hands inside of her coat pockets and headed up the steps to the main entrance. Laura was running late since she’d spent an extra hour tweaking her journalism final for Tuesday’s class.

Truthfully, this was stupid. Absolutely stupid. Who the hell throws a party in the middle of finals? Danny had explained that the whole thing was traditional: a means for the students to step back from their studying and caffeine-induced comas for one night.

 _"You’ll be surprised how much better you do on your tests without a stick up your butt, Hollis...”_ she’d joked. Laura, however, thought it was all reckless and a colossal waste of her Friday night.    

The Summer House was decked out in Christmas lights and strands of silver tinsel around the lampposts. She could already hear the music blaring inside and tried to steel herself for a long, unpleasant evening. She wished she could have convinced Perry and the others to come to the party tonight— even if it was only for an hour or so. It certainly would have helped her pass the time.

After dropping her coat off in the nearby cloak room, Laura went off in search of Danny. She had decided to forgo the fancy look tonight in lieu of a short black dress with a grey cardigan. Her hair was clasped in a loose, though stylish updo to help combat the heat from the crowds. The last thing she wanted was a lot of sweat-soaked hair clinging to her neck for the rest of the night.

One or two Summers greeted her cheerfully as she made her way down the hall. She also spotted a few familiar faces from Danny’s sports meets throughout the year. The crowds were already kind of intense, which Laura found a little bit shocking. She couldn’t possibly be the only student at Silas having a near-nervous breakdown about her finals this weekend.

“Hollis!” said a voice over the din of music and laughter, and she looked up to see Danny heading towards her. She looked surprisingly informal, sporting jeans and a simple t-shirt, though her hair was loosely curled and very pretty.

Danny took Laura by the waist and pulled her close. “Hey there. Glad you finally made it.”

“Yeah... Sorry I'm late. I had some work I needed to finish.”

“Ha, what a surprise,” Danny teased. She played with the hem of Laura’s cardigan. “Do you really need this, babe?”

“I didn’t want to be cold,” said Laura, shrugging slightly.

“Inside? At a party? Come on, Hollis.”

“What? I like it. Is there something _wrong_ with wearing a cardigan?”

Danny gave Laura a teasing smirk. “Come on, hotstuff. What good is all that yoga if no one gets to see these arms?”

She playfully slipped the cardigan off her shoulders before draping it over the back of a chair. “Why don’t we start here, and I’ll get to your dress later when we have a little more privacy?”

Laura raised an eyebrow at her. It was in no way meant to be suggestive.

“Hey Lawrence!” someone yelled from the opposite end of the hallway. “Get your Kansas ass in here! We’re doing shots!”

“Keep your pants on, Marcus!” she shouted back at him. Danny sighed dramatically, then smiled at Laura. “The jacked-up loser on the swim team honestly thinks he’s gonna show me up tonight— in a _drinking_ contest.”

Laura placed her hands on Danny’s arms. “Try and go easy on him.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. You gonna come cheer me on?”

Laura pressed her lips together as if contemplating the question. “I think I’m gonna need a minute or two before I hit the hard liquor with you guys.”

Danny laughed. “Suit yourself, babe. Don’t go far, okay?”

She squeezed Laura’s hips before heading down the hallway, and Laura took off in the opposite direction. She kept a stash of cookies upstairs in Danny’s room where the Summers wouldn’t get their filthy hands on them.

The music got louder as she headed up the staircase. It was already giving her a headache. Some Zetas were trying to do pull-ups off the railing and one managed to faceplant down on some chairs. His friends were laughing their heads off from above as the moron staggered up with a bloody nose. _The Darwin Award for Idiocy_ Laura thought as she moved down the hall towards Danny’s bedroom.

“Hey, beautiful,” said some random guy in her way. “Do you live here? Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall to your left,” said Laura without stopping. She definitely should have eaten before coming here.

Unfortunately when Laura made it to Danny’s bedroom, she discovered the door had been locked. Either her girlfriend had taken precautions against unwanted visitors, or someone was in there rutting beside her cookies.

She knocked on the door. “Hello?” said Laura. “Is somebody in there?”

“Go away!”

The shout was followed by wild peals of laughter, and Laura could only stand there, silently fuming.

“Mel’s in there,” said one of the Summers as she passed by Laura in the hall. “She got in a tiff with Danny two days ago, so she’s probably screwing someone on her bed.”

“Great,” said Laura with a thin-lipped smile. “Guess I’ll just have to try the kitchen, then.” She couldn’t have cared less about Danny’s soiled bedcovers, but she’d be _furious_ if they found her cookie stash.

She wandered back down to the main floor, which seemed even more crowded than it was before. A few girls bumped into her as they headed for the stairs, and Laura felt like shouting an _“Excuse you.”_

Thankfully, at that moment, she happened to see Natalie standing over in the corner with Mark and Lindsey. She’d invited her friends to come, but she didn’t think any of them would show. Laura was beyond elated to see the three of them.

“Hey! You guys came!” said Laura enthusiastically.

“Laura!” Natalie beamed before hugging her. “We were wondering where you were! This place is kind of crazy.”

“Yeah... Tell me about it. Have you been here long?”

“Maybe an hour,” said Mark, sipping his beer. “Whenever they brought the sex doll into the game room.”

“Yikes,” Laura replied. “Should I even ask what they were using it for?”

“It wasn’t as exciting as you’d imagine,” Lindsey joked.

“So how goes the finals?” Natalie nudged Laura.

“Two down, two more to go," Laura sulked. "Biology is kind of hit-or-miss at this point, but at least my journalism project is almost finished.”

“We were just complaining about the deadline,” said Lindsey. “We’ve had, like, _no time_ to work on it.”

“I asked Professor Cochrane for an extension last Thursday and she actually shot me the middle finger,” Mark grinned.

Laura laughed. “I’m not going to press my luck. I’m just glad she was interested in my topic.”

“That’s because she’s tired of hearing whingy, banal commentaries about the Saudi’s intervention in Yemen," Lindsey drawled.

“Hey!” said Danny, suddenly appearing from out of nowhere with more of a flushed complexion. She wrapped her arm around Laura’s shoulders as she smiled cheerfully at everyone. “Would you care to introduce me, babe?”

“Sure,” said Laura a little awkwardly. “Danny, this is Natalie, Mark, and Lindsey: my comrades from journalism class. Guys? This is my girlfriend: the famous Danny Lawrence.”

“Hello!” Natalie smiled, ever eager to be friendly. “We’ve heard so much about you!”

“Hopefully only good things,” Danny said with a smirk. “Are you guys having fun? Can I get you anything?”  

“We survived the trek to the kitchen, so I think we’re doin' good." Lindsey brandished her half-empty bottle of Heineken.

“Nice,” Danny replied. “So is Laura the biggest dork in class, or does that title belong to someone else?”

“She’s the dorkiest,” Mark quipped.

“But she’s also the cutest, so it’s a win-win situation,” Lindsey grinned.

“Oh, _whatever,_ you guys. I'm not the one who listens to instrumental scores of early Nintendo games.”

“Hey! There are some beautifully complex arrangements of classic themes from the 8-bit era,” Mark insisted.

 _“Sure,_ Mark. You would have _died_ if you’d heard what my Uber driver was playing in the car tonight.”

“Wait— what?” said Danny as she glanced down at Laura. “You took an Uber to get here?”

“Well, yeah,” Laura replied, slightly puzzled. “I wasn't going to walk; it’s freezing outside.”

“I thought you were getting a ride to the party with your building’s trio of freaks?” Danny frowned.

Laura raised her eyebrows. “They didn’t want to come.”

“Then why didn't you _call_ me, Laura?”

Laura was starting to get very uncomfortable. Possibly even more-so than her friends.

“It was only a two mile drive, Danny. It really didn’t cost that much.”

“Are you _serious?_ It’s not the cost that I care about! Freak, Laura, have you even been watching the news?! There’s a psychopath out there beheading people all over Silas and you just decided to hitch a ride with a random stranger?”

The tension in the room was stifling and awkward. Her friends didn’t know which way to look. Laura considered whether or not to start an argument with her, but it would have just made things more unbearable.

“I’ll get a ride home with a friend tonight,” she said, hoping Danny would just drop the subject.

 _"Or_ you could just spend the night here with _me_ so I don’t have to worry about getting you home safely."

Laura was bristling, but put on her kindest smile. “I don’t know if I’m really up for that. Mel locked herself in your room with another girl, and I’m _pretty_ sure she’s doing it on your bed.”

 _“What!?”_ Danny yelled _._

Laura shrugged her shoulders. “I was just up there to get my cookies. She was definitely in there with someone else.”

“Oh, that _bitch,_ ” said Danny, suddenly seething. “Wait here— I’ll be right back.”

Laura and her friends watched Danny head for the stairs before they lapsed into awkward silence.

Natalie was the first to help ease Laura’s discomfort. “So... Your girlfriend seems really... fun.”

“She’s definitely very protective,” Lindsey remarked, casually drinking her beer.

“She is at that,” Laura sighed, trying her best to lighten the mood. “So! Are you guys up for a game of pool? I was also thinking of raiding the kitchen for snacks.”

“Um...” said Natalie a little hesitantly, “I was actually on my way out. I’m calling it early.”

Laura was unable to hide her disappointment. “Oh. Not up for fizzy dagons tonight?”

“I just have a ton of studying I need to do. My advanced calculus final is on Monday. But thank you for inviting me to the party tonight, Laura. This was really cool! Very informative. Let’s meet up for lunch or something next week after we finish our exams. Maybe Mariana’s?”

“Sounds good,” said Mark. “Send us a text?”

“Will do. I’ll see you guys Tuesday!”

Natalie walked back in the direction of the cloak room, only narrowly evading a group of raucous Zetas.

Lindsey pursed her lips together before raising an eyebrow at Laura. “You know, if you want to make your escape too, now would be a good time to do it.”

Laura shook her head.

It was a tempting proposition.

And one she’d later revisit before the end of the night.

\----

The evening wore on.

The party was turning chaotic, and Laura was fast becoming irritated. The incessant thumping of the bass on the speakers was now in sync with the blood-vessels pounding in her head.

Mark and Lindsey had gone their separate directions to mingle with other students. Danny coaxed Laura into coming and dancing with her, but there was infinitely more groping than dancing going on. Her girlfriend was tipsy after some hard drinking with the swim team, and she was being more clingy than usual despite Laura’s modest protests. She wasn’t in the mood for Danny’s fumbling attempts to get handsy with her, so she excused herself to go to the bathroom for nothing more than a moment’s reprieve.

The bathrooms on the second and third floors were occupied— another minor irritant. She went back downstairs, opting to cut through the game room instead of trying to navigate the crowds in the hallway.

“Holy cow! Little hottie!”

Laura stopped and suddenly turned around, fervently searching the crowd. Her gaze quickly landed on Wilson Kirsch, who was standing by the pool table and wearing one of the goofiest smiles Laura had ever seen.

She squeaked as she ran and leapt into his arms, and he crushed her in a massive bear hug.

“Dude!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were at Silas! Why didn’t you write me and tell me?!”

Kirsch was one of Laura’s oldest friends: an American ex-pat who grew up in Austria where his father worked for a multinational company. He was best friends with her cousin Vinn, and the three would frequently hang out together during Laura’s summer visits to Austria. It had been three years since she’d last seen Kirsch, and he looked as handsome as ever. Laura wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him as tightly as she could.

“Kirsch! You big goob! What are you doing at Silas? I thought you were studying in Vienna!”

“Nah... I got a sports scholarship to Silas and made the move. Plus the girls here are totally hotter— am I right?!”

Laura laughed as she placed her hands on his shoulders. Kirsch was still holding her off the ground. “Oh my gosh, you are so disgustingly predictable.”

“Yeah, but not wrong! So what’s your story?”

“Brand new freshman,” Laura sighed. “I got here in May. It’s been insane.”

“Dude! You should have called me! Vinn and I would have taken you to Oktoberfest with us last month!”

“Oh yeah... like I’m going to spend a week with you guys watching you drink yourselves sick,” Laura laughed.

“Come on, dude, it would have been just like old times! You, me, and the Vinn-meister: party bros! We’re actually thinking of heading to Prague for New Years if you wanna join the crazy.”

“That sounds like fun, but I’m heading back to Canada to spend the holidays with my dad.”

Kirsch gave her a wounded look. “What if we brought lots of cookies?"

She narrowed her eyes. “Throw in three bags of Reeses and I just _might_ consider it.”

“Hey, douchebag—” came Danny from the other side of the room, and they both turned to see her approaching them. “Do you wanna put my girlfriend down before I break one or both of your arms?”

“Summer Psycho,” said Kirsch with a practiced smile as he lowered Laura to the ground. He looked down at Laura with an amused expression. “Wow—I didn’t know you were dating Lawrence.”

“She is,” Danny stated, placing her hands on her hips. “So you should definitely take your disgusting hands off of her.”

“Whoa...” said Kirsch without letting go of Laura. “You kinda need to calm the heck down. I know little Hollis, and she’d tell me if I was doing anything that made her uncomfortable. At all.”   

“It’s making me uncomfortable,” Danny replied. “I can guess where your hands have been.”

“Danny…” said Laura, both shocked and mortified.

“Ouch,” Kirsch said, releasing Laura. “You Summer chicks don’t like to pull any punches, do you?”

“It’s hard when every Zeta has a punchable face. You aren’t an exception, Wilson.”

“Hey, boo,” said a girl as she came up behind Kirsch, draping herself possessively over his shoulder. She seemed a bit drunk, and was giving Danny a look that clearly stated she wasn’t all that impressed with her. “Who’s this?”

“SJ, this is Danny: the Summer Psycho president. She’s dating my best bro here, Laura Hollis.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Laura, smiling politely. “Kirsch and I go way back. He’s the best!”

“What’s he the best at?” Danny smiled. “Successfully counting to ten without using his fingers? Or is being a Zeta the anaesthetic that dulls the pain of stupidity?”

Kirsch gave her a hard smile while SJ looked Danny up and down. She grabbed his hand and pulled him in the direction of the kitchen. “What a bitch...” she said over her shoulder.

Danny smirked as she watched them leave. Laura was beyond embarrassed. She rounded on her girlfriend with an incredulous expression. “What in the heck was _that?”_

“What?” said Danny. “Kirsch is a moron.”

“Kirsch is my _friend,”_ said Laura angrily. “I’ve known him since I was seven years old! He’s a sweetheart and you were a complete jerk to him.”

“Oh, did I hurt the poor dude-bro’s feelings?” Danny said with a pout. “I’m sure the ditz that’s hanging on his shoulder will eventually help him to get over it.”

“I’m being serious,” Laura insisted. “You just embarrassed me in front of someone I care about.”

“Really?” Danny joked. “The guy is a meat-head. What: was he your first kiss when you were twelve?”

Laura’s jaw clenched in anger. She turned to walk away.

“Hey, wait!” said Danny, grabbing a hold of Laura’s arm so she could pull Laura back around to face her. “I’m kidding, babe— it was just a joke!”

Laura just glared at her before brushing her hand off. Danny had the sense to at least look contrite. “I’m sorry,” said Danny with perfect sincerity. “You’re right. I should have been nicer.”

“Yeah, you should have!” Laura yelled, stepping away from her girlfriend. “More to him than to me! What was the point of even coming to this party if you were just going to humiliate me in front of my friends?”

“Laura...” said Danny as she reached for her again, but Laura was having none of it. Danny sighed. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’ll apologize the next time I see him. Alright?”

Laura was hardly mollified by her promise, but she didn’t want to make a scene. This wasn’t exactly the time and place for it, and the last thing she wanted was another argument.

Instead, she allowed Danny to lead her into the lounge room where a few of the Summers were on the couches. Two of the girls were making out with each other, oblivious to the amused stares surrounding them.

“Where’s the biscuits you were getting?” Malorie loudly whined with a half-angry, half-teasing look.

“Sorry,” said Danny as she collapsed on the couch and pulled Laura into her lap. “I was busy looking for _this_ scrumptious biscuit and I must have gotten distracted.”

“Then I guess we’re sharing,” Malorie smirked. The others started laughing.

The discussion picked up on everyone’s plans for the break after finals were over. Danny wrapped her arms possessively around Laura and added her quips to the discussion. Laura didn’t know why it bothered her so much, nor did she care about anyone’s travel plans. She’d mostly tuned out while mentally reminding herself that she would already be in bed if she were home right now.

A group of drunken Summers showed up to join everyone else on the couches. Laura excused herself to go and get a drink when the topic changed to everyone’s favorite sex positions.

She walked into the kitchen where various bottles of alcohol were scattered haphazardly across the countertop. A few dozen people were milling around the area, but Kirsch was nowhere to be found.

 _“I know...”_ said a girl, speaking to her friend in German as they leaned against the counter beside the fridge. Laura moved past them and quickly opened the fridge to grab herself a Smirnoff Ice.

“Oh hey,” said the girl, taking note of Laura’s presence and promptly switching to English. “You’re Danny’s girlfriend, right?”

“That would be me,” said Laura mildly. She had no idea who either of them were.

The girl turned to her friend and switched back to German. _“I told you Lawrence was dating a little freshman._ ”

 _“Well, better that than the bull-dykes on her team. Do you remember the last one she was screwing?”_ They started laughing.

Laura gave them a stone-faced look. She wasn’t sure if she should say something or feign ignorance. She was attending a freaking university in Austria: was it _that_ hard to believe she might speak German?

“You’re adorable,” said one of the girls to Laura.

“Thank you,” she flatly replied.

“We _love_ Danny. We’re on Graz’s track team, so we see her at a lot of competitions.”

“Do you have to climb her when she wants a kiss from you?” the girl said teasingly.

 _“It’s probably easier when they’re both lying down.”_ Her friend nearly coughed into her drink.

Laura smiled thinly at them. She was already done with this conversation. “We manage somehow,” she said before twisting the cap off her Smirnoff bottle.

“You’re lucky, you know. Every girl on our team wants a shot at fucking your girlfriend.”

“You should tell Danny to bring you to Graz next weekend. We’re having our own party after exams.”

“Sure,” said Laura a little acerbically before promptly leaving the kitchen. She headed for the stairs after taking a swig of her drink. She didn’t want to go back to the lounge room.

As she moved down the hall, she spotted her cardigan still hanging off of one of the chairs. She put it back on even though the room was warm because Laura decided she damn well wanted to. She was tired, angry, and unhappy with everyone that happened to be standing in her way. She wanted to find Kirsch and apologize to him for Danny’s terrible behavior.

She went up to the third floor where it was infinitely quieter and began a random search of the bedrooms. Various groups of people were sitting around and talking, but few were paying any attention to her. There were a couple of locked doors, but Laura wasn’t interested in divining if Kirsch and his girlfriend were behind them. She eventually made her way down to the second floor on the off chance the two of them were dancing.

The hall to the bedrooms was packed with people and the floor was crowded with dancers. The DJ was playing a really terrible dance remix of some top 40’s nightmare from the 90’s. She tried to navigate the mass of bodies without someone attempting to rub up on her.

And that’s when she saw her:

A dark head of curls and a blood-red smile on porcelain skin.

Laura came to a stop, nearly frozen in place, when someone collided roughly into her side. She staggered backwards while a drunk girl laughed and yelled “Sorry!” behind her shoulder.

Laura spun back to where she thought she saw Carmilla, but the mysterious figure had disappeared. The lights were too dim to see anything properly, but Laura was almost certain it had been her.  

She frantically began searching the faces of those around her, almost aggressively pushing her way in-between each couple. It couldn’t have been an illusion. Carmilla _must_ have been standing there. Laura hadn’t had _that_ much to drink.     

The balcony doors had been left wide open to let some of the cold air in. She eyed them for a moment before her instincts took over, pulling her in the direction of the darkness. 

The night was _hers_. The night was  _theirs_. Where else would Carmilla be?

Laura’s heart was already pounding as she frantically pushed her way to the doorway.

She quickly stepped out onto the open balcony, looking around in every direction. She saw a few people smoking cigarettes by the ledge, but otherwise, no one was there.

A cold breeze blew past her, prompting Laura to pull her cardigan more tightly around her body. Maybe she was mistaken. Why on earth would Carmilla be lurking around a stupid college party in the first place?

She closed her eyes and slowly exhaled, allowing the cold air to dull her senses. She tried not to feel the disappointment in her heart, but the sting was too bitter. And it hurt.  

“You lost, cutie?” a voice purred behind her. A voice she knew all too well.

Laura spun around in the flash of instant, only to find Carmilla standing behind her.

She was relatively hidden in the shadows of the building, casually leaning back against the wall. Her eyes were shining brightly in the darkness, and a small smile was playing on her lips. She was dressed to seduce, captivate, and kill: all _precisely_ in that order. This was quite the accomplishment, given how incredible Carmilla looked on a regular basis. Her leather jacket was barely covering a beautiful, burgundy halter-neck, but her impressive _décolletage_ was momentarily forgotten by the sight of the black leather pants.

Laura suddenly forgot how to breathe, even as her eyes met Carmilla’s. She was beyond stunning. Almost ethereal.

There was no other way to describe her.

“Hey,” said Laura with the faintest smile, gradually forgetting her nervousness.

“Hey,” said Carmilla with her own subtle grin as she quietly stepped out of the shadows.

It felt like a lifetime since they’d last seen each other, and for Laura, it just as easily might have been. She watched with breathless expectation as Carmilla slowly approached her, even as they kept a careful distance between the two of them.

For a moment, all they could do was stare at one another, silently drinking in each other’s presence. There were so many emotions fluttering through Laura's heart, yet all she could think about was how beautiful Carmilla looked. The pain and the heartache she'd felt for the last two weeks was quietly forgotten in that moment. Carmilla was alive. Carmilla had come back...

And she was standing there, waiting for _her._

“You went away,” said Laura softly, rubbing a hand along her arm.

“Yeah,” said Carmilla with a slightly guilty look. “I... had some things to take care of. I probably should have called or sent you a message, but I guess I got a little distracted.”

Laura didn’t believe her for a second. “So you needed some time away?”

Carmilla smirked. “Maybe I just needed some time to think.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

Laura felt the heat rush up her neck, though the air around her was freezing.

Carmilla took another step closer to Laura: a dance they'd perfected since they’d met. Her eyes were as bright as the stars above them, and the look she was giving Laura was every bit as purposeful as the last time she'd leaned in to kiss her.

“You look beautiful,” said Carmilla in a low, melodic voice.

Laura blushed. “So do you.”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Laura’s heart was racing. “Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere else.” Carmilla looked up at the sky. “Somewhere where we can see the stars.”

“Carm,” Laura laughed. “It's freezing out here.”

Carmilla took off her jacket. “Trust me,” she said as she wrapped it around Laura. “I'll find a way to keep you warm.”

 _Warm_ was a fair assessment of how Laura was feeling right then, enveloped in the scent of Carmilla’s jacket. It warmed her instantly, though that could easily have been the sight of Carmilla’s perfect arms on display.

Laura swallowed. “You’re going to freeze to death.”

“I'm _always_ warm, cutie,” Carmilla smirked. Her hands were still resting on the collar of the jacket. “If you stand close enough, you'll pick up on that pretty quickly.”

Laura knew that. She’d known it for a while. But that still didn’t stop her breath from hitching. She took a step closer almost instinctively, and her skin was definitely getting warmer. 

“Come on,” said Carmilla as she cast a glance at the Zetas still standing by the balcony’s ledge. At some point, she'd become an object of interest as the guys were all leering at Carmilla.

“Are we climbing down the building?” Laura teasingly asked, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Nah…” said Carmilla before taking her hand in hers. “I think the stairs here will do just fine…”

\------

Their walk across campus was generally silent, though it wasn't uncomfortable in the least. It didn’t take long for them to reach their destination as the building was an easy distance from the Summer House. Laura had never been here before, and had no idea what it’s intended purpose was. She was far more distracted by the beautiful girl in front of her, guiding her through the night with careful ease.

She marveled at how well Carmilla’s hand fit in hers, how wonderful this small connection felt. She wondered if Carmilla could also feel it too, even if it was only a fraction of Laura's joy.

A dark ascent up an exterior fire-escape led them to the rooftop of the building. Laura was intrigued to find a glass solarium there, looking run-down and neglected for quite some time.  

“The botany students used to grow all kinds of plants here,” Carmilla quietly explained. She forced the door open with a sharp turn of the handle, then graciously held it open for Laura. “When they built the new science building over a decade ago, this place was kind of abandoned. There’s some glass on the floor where the roof caved in, so remember to be careful.”

Laura cautiously stepped into the room, grateful to be out of the wind. The solarium was still cold, but it was thankfully more contained. She looked up at the sky through the open rooftop.

Hundreds upon thousands of stars were shining brilliantly in the night sky overhead. She counted all of the constellations she knew, divining their shapes in the endless celestial patterns.

“It’s beautiful,” said Laura in a soft, reverent voice, basking in the glow of the starlight. She felt like she was standing at the center of the universe, and every point was fixed on just the two of them.

She felt Carmilla’s hand press warmly against her side, sending a surge of heat beneath her skin. Laura inhaled. Suddenly, within that moment, the stars didn’t feel quite so distant. She honestly didn’t think her heart could beat any faster, and yet, she felt suspended in time. Carmilla was standing behind her, warming everything she touched as she pressed her body against Laura’s back.

Laura didn’t dare to move or speak lest all of this would vanish at any moment. It was a dream she’d awoken from countless nights before without the hope of a resolution there to comfort her. She felt Carmilla’s fingers brushing softly against her neck, but she kept a steadfast gaze above the heavens. The moonlight had embraced them, finding them in the darkness...

And that as the moment she heard her name.

 _“Laura...”_ Carmilla whispered with perfect reverence, unraveling the last of Laura’s sanity. Her name was a plea. A song. An invocation.

Nothing had ever sounded quite so beautiful.

Laura was lost. She slowly turned her head, unable to resist the song that was darkly calling to her. Her lips parted, and she tilted her face towards Carmilla. No other words needed to be spoken.

The kiss was gloriously, impossibly slow— an intense exploration of the senses. The warmth, the touch, the taste of Carmilla’s mouth was the most painfully exquisite sweetness she had ever experienced.

Her hand slid up into Carmilla’s silken hair, gently yet insistently pulling her closer. She wanted, she _needed_ to surrender herself to the agony of Carmilla’s lips pressed against her own. Nothing on earth could have felt this incredible; nothing could have tasted so divine. Laura was drowning in the slow, seductive movements of the warm, magnificent creature pressed behind her.

Their bodies shifted to face one another as if they were moving to a measured waltz. Carmilla was determined to awake every divine sensation still hidden beneath Laura’s heated skin. Her fingers sought purchase in Laura’s fastened hair before they slowly slid down the back of her neck. Laura could hardly breathe as Carmilla thoroughly kissed her, softly unraveling Laura with her tongue. Laura pressed her body against Carmilla's without any hesitancy or restraint. Each heartbeat was bringing them closer together as their chests rose and fell again and again.

Laura couldn’t take it. All she wanted to do was surrender— right here— in Carmilla’s arms. But the rational part of her mind was wildly screaming for her to put some much needed distance between them both.

Laura pulled back and took a staggering breath, her hands still tangled in Carmilla’s hair. There were words somewhere that she needed to speak, but she was struggling to find them and form them.     

“I can’t...” Laura breathed, fighting the insatiable pull to taste Carmilla’s lips over and over again.  

“Why not?” Carmilla whispered in a hot, labored breath. Her eyes were as black as the night.

“I'm not…” Laura stuttered, “I’m... not supposed to see you. Danny asked me to stop after she saw us together. And I wanted to find you and tell you and talk to you, but you—”

She couldn’t finish the thought before Carmilla was kissing her again.

Laura was drowning in the heady sensation of Carmilla’s mouth against hers— the way she pulled back, the way she moved forward, her teeth slightly grazing Laura's lips. She had never experienced _anything_ close to this before: this wanting, all-consuming fire.

But it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t everything.

Carmilla still wasn’t hers.

She broke off the kiss, trying to steady her breath as their foreheads pressed together. They were inches apart, both heated and trembling, and Laura wasn’t sure who was more affected.     

“Why...” said Laura in a ragged, painful whimper. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Why are you fighting it?” Carmilla murmured, trying to bring Laura even closer.

“Because!” said Laura, suddenly pulling away from her. “I don’t know who you are, Carm! You’re this beautiful stranger with a dark and mysterious past who just... waltzes into my life whenever you feel like it! You’ve scared me. You’ve _haunted_ me. You’ve messed with my emotions and you’ve even made me question my sanity! I know _nothing_ about you and what I do know scares me because the same hands that are touching me have actually _killed_ someone.”

She closed her eyes and slid her hands down Carmilla’s front, resting them over the dip in her stomach. “And then you kiss me…” Laura whispered, “and it… it cracks me open...”

She looked up at Carmilla with a pained expression. “You don’t know what you do to me. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel around you, or what I’m supposed to do, because... “

She trailed off as Carmilla touched her face.

There was an unspoken truth they could feel in the silence, the same that had been present since the first day they'd met. Carmilla was staring at her with such dark and impassioned _longing,_ it made Laura weak at the knees.

No one had ever looked at her like that; she felt like Carmilla was going to devour her. Carmilla leaned down to kiss her again, but Laura half-heartedly moved away.

“Please, Carm,” she whispered, though it couldn’t strictly be said what Laura was asking for anymore. She needed Carmilla to stop. She needed Carmilla to keep kissing her. She needed her world to start making sense again. “Just… give me something to hold onto. An explanation. _Anything_. Even if it’s just a promise that you’ll be here tomorrow. Tell me there’s something tangible that I can take with me: a future where you’re here and… and you’re real.”

Carmilla was silent. Laura desperately waited for a sign of hope or understanding. But all she saw in the eyes staring back at her was a conflict between two opposing forces.

Carmilla wanted her, that much was certain, but she was unwilling to give Laura more than that. There was no promise of a future, no willingness to relinquish the secrets that she kept buried close to her heart.

Laura closed her eyes for a moment before her gaze fell to the ground. She ran her teeth over her bottom lip and sighed in silent resignation.

“Danny’s a good person,” said Laura flatly. “And she doesn’t deserve to get hurt. I may be conflicted about a lot of things, but I honestly do love and care about her.”

Carmilla said nothing. Laura looked up at her with a shy, almost guilty expression. “I don’t want to be that kind of person, you know? The kind who goes around having wild weekend flings with…  gorgeous... elusive women.”

She found herself faltering as she said the words, which made Carmilla’s eyes shine with amusement. But the moment was all too short-lived between them, because nothing, in essence, had really changed.

“She deserves better,” said Laura with soft hesitation. Then, she quietly whispered, “So do we.”

It was less of a statement than it was an entreaty— a plea for Carmilla to _give_ her something better. Laura was wearing her heart on her sleeve and had placed it before a beautiful killer. If Carmilla was honestly going to be the death of her, than Laura had obviously accepted it. She didn’t want to be an amusement or a simple distraction. She didn’t want to be a notch on Carmilla’s bedpost. Her heart was longing for “maybes” and “somedays” even if it was only the smallest of hopes.

But nothing was said. No promises were whispered in the silence that had settled between them. Carmilla looked down, unable to meet Laura’s gaze, and there was pain clearly visible in her countenance.

Laura sighed. She hadn’t meant to upset her, even if her own heart was breaking.

She slipped the jacket off of her shoulders and held it out for Carmilla to take back again.

“Goodnight, Carm,” she said, trying to hold back her tears.

Carmilla looked up again, somber and beautiful. She looked at the jacket in Laura’s hand and slowly shook her head.

They stood there in silence for another minute before Laura accepted the jacket. She put it back on and walked out of the solarium, feeling as though she’d left her heart behind.

Instead of going back to the party, she texted Danny and said she’d left with a friend. After tugging the jacket tightly around her body, she let the stars guide her home.


	8. The Changing Seasons

It had been a week since the night of the party, and Laura had almost reached her breaking point with Danny. The tension between them had been steadily increasing for days, but the powder-keg had yet to explode.

They fought constantly. Pointless disputes were turning into drawn-out, tedious arguments. Things that Laura once found slightly amusing were starting to irritate the heck out of her. She didn’t like it when Danny made comments about the quality or authenticity of the shows she was watching. She didn’t like it when Danny tried to physically distract her while she was studying for her tests. Helpful suggestions became unwanted opinions before the evening would end in resentful silence, and if Danny suspected that Laura was unhappy with her, then her answer was to be even more smothering.  

Things got significantly worse when Danny suggested the possibility of moving in together once spring semester was over. Laura refused to even _address_ the idea when she was struggling just to concentrate on her finals. It was a far cry from happier times not three months ago when the prospect of a committed relationship with Danny was beyond Laura’s wildest expectations.    

When she’d first met Danny, she wasn’t expecting to fall quite so hard (or quite so suddenly) for someone else. She’d been looking forward to a more diversified dating experience since her previous romantic exploits had been somewhat middling. She’d gone through the inaugural happiness and heartache of falling in love with her “straight” best friend in high school, though overly-intimate sleepovers and “hangouts” after classes hardly constituted a serious relationship. There was also the girl she’d met her senior year during a Model United Nations conference in Banff, but her week-long fling with a charming stranger was little more than an exciting lapse of judgment. College, therefore, was the perfect opportunity for Laura to broaden her horizons. It was a chance to move beyond semi-platonic friendships and the occasional flirtation from curious straight girls.

Still, she was totally unprepared for Danny Lawrence when she'd walked into Laura’s lit class on the first day of school. Danny was subbing as a TA for two weeks due to some personal issues with one of the faculty members. That was all the time it took for Laura to develop a hopeless crush on her, and in her clumsy attempts to befriend her TA, she’d actually managed to endear herself to the girl. It was a significant feat—all things considered— given how intimidating it had been to approach Danny on _any_ level. She was a 4.0 sports star in her senior year of college with an endless supply of admirers in every corner. But Laura desperately wanted to be friends with her, no matter how out of her element she might have felt. She never _dreamed_ that Danny would seriously want to date her because Laura was only Laura: a nobody.

Nevertheless, the two had started dating, and it wasn’t long before they officially became exclusive. It had all been a bit of a whirlwind at first: the insanity and excitement of being in a relationship with the _incomparable_ Danny Lawrence. Thankfully, Laura’s nervous energy soon eased into comfortable affection as Danny became less of an impossible ideal and more of an actual human being. She had her flaws as well as her strengths, and Laura was quick to learn them. Danny was sweet, but also headstrong and competitive with a tendency to be over-protective. There were occasional disputes, but that seemed like a natural part of the narrative of a committed relationship. Danny also had a bit of a jealousy streak, but Laura had her jealous moments as well.

Their physical compatibility had been a constant source of teasing due to their respective differences in height, but they got along well enough to silence the off-handed jokes Danny’s Summer Society sisters loved to throw at them. Danny was obviously the more experienced lover between them, though she seemed inordinately pleased with Laura’s efforts, and in spite of the inconvenience it occasionally presented to Laura’s studying, their sex life— while perfunctory at times— was never boring.

But the fine veneer of their seemingly perfect relationship had definitely started to crack. Things had changed somewhere between the two of them, and certainly not for the better. Laura was more impatient and less accommodating of Danny’s needs; Danny, as a result, was sullen and frustrated. There was an edge to every discussion and a distinct lack of warmth that Laura was a little scared to acknowledge. It would mean that the best days of their relationship were over and they were settling for something less than ideal. But if she couldn’t make things work with Danny, what hope was there for happiness with anyone else?

It would have been easy to blame this all on Carmilla, but that would have ignored the existing cracks in the foundation of their relationship. Laura couldn’t deny that her feelings had been compromised, but she was mature enough to understand that pining after Carmilla would lead her nowhere. Crushes were very dangerous things because they were, in essence, wholly uncomplicated. They didn’t require the time, tears, and energy of a long-term, committed relationship. Chemistry was one thing, but a physical attraction to someone could only sustain you for so long. It didn't matter that Laura was also attracted to Carmilla’s mind and personality and sarcastic sense of humor.

Not at all.

It was a moot point, anyway. Carmilla was gone. They had both made their choices and walked away. For better or worse, Laura had to move forward, even if she would always wonder what might have been.

It was a cold Saturday afternoon that found her with Danny at the outdoor Christmas market in Leitner Square. Laura was finally finished with her exams and decided to celebrate her first stress-free weekend with some early Christmas shopping. The markets in Austria were absolutely stunning during the Christmas season. The stalls sold everything from chocolates and candles to beautiful hand-crafted ornaments. At some point, they ran into LaF, Perry, and JP, who were always a welcomed sight for Laura to see. If Danny was unhappy, it was difficult to tell since she kept a careful distance from the three of them.

“Look at this!” JP grinned with barely contained enthusiasm. “They’ve made little mice out of hazelnuts! And look at this one! He’s sleeping in a walnut shell!”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, would you just _buy_ them already?” Perry lazily drawled. “We can get another tree if you can’t fit all of these ridiculous ornaments on the one in our living room.”  

JP looked rather cheekily at Perry with his hands tucked deep inside his pockets. “Does that mean we’ll have to buy a few more menorahs to accommodate the influx of Christmas decor?”

“It means I don’t care if you and our little atheist want to have two Christmas trees this year. You can make it up to me by getting me that expensive set of Winsor & Newton ink for Chanukkah.”

JP rested his forehead against hers. “You’re absolutely perfect, Miss Perry.”

“Mmm... Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Hey! Make room for LaF!” said LaF excitedly.

They approached the group carrying a stack of parcels, which JP was gracious enough to help them with.

“What’s this?” said Perry, grabbing a box off the top.

“It’s a wooden santa that smokes incense, and it’s freaking adorable. Check it out! You light the incense and put it underneath here so that it looks like he’s smoking his pipe!”

JP was euphoric. “Oh, that’s fantastic. We’ll have to buy one for your mother.”

“Pace yourselves, children. We still have to have enough money for groceries later tonight.” Perry turned to Laura. “I need some coffee. Are you guys still shopping or do you want to come with us?”

“You go ahead,” said Laura, smiling. “I still need to find something for my dad.”

“Don’t buy him a nutcracker. They’re impractical and terrifying,” LaF hastily remarked.

Laura shook her head with amusement as her friends disappeared from sight. Danny moved up so she was standing beside Laura in front of a kiosk selling Christmas ornaments.

“I seriously _do not_ get your friends,” said Danny. “That dynamic is all kinds of messed up.”

“Is it your place to judge?” Laura replied, feeling a spark of annoyance as she looked over the glassware.  

“I just think it’s weird. And a little gross. I could not be in a three-way relationship...”

“...Yet you're comfortable making assumptions about a relationship you honestly know nothing about.”

Danny rolled her eyes at her. “Come on, Laura— don’t pretend it doesn’t weird you out. If I suggested to you that we try a three-way, you would _not_ be okay with that.”

“No... I wouldn’t. But we’re not talking about us, so why is it any of our business? Besides,” she added under her breath, “it’s not like we’ve got it perfect.”

Danny suddenly raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing...” Laura mumbled as she turned to walk away, but Danny grabbed her arm and spun her around again.

“No seriously... I’m listening. Was there something you wanted to say to me?”

“No, Danny. I’m _fine.”_

“You don’t look fine— you look upset. So let’s get this out in the open.”

“Really?” said Laura a little sarcastically. “You want to have an argument right now?”

“I don’t want to have an argument _at all,_ but you’re clearly pissed off about something.”

Laura inhaled. “We’re not doing this in public. If you want to talk, then we can talk later.”

“You always say that! You _always_ brush me off whenever I want to have a serious discussion about this!”

Laura gave her a pointed look before she turned around and started walking away. She could hear Danny following closely behind her with an angry, persistent gait. Danny was obviously unwilling to let this go, so the least Laura could do was find a less crowded area. She _hated_ when they argued in front of other people. It was always mortifying.

She stopped under a lamppost on the other side of the street from the market’s main entrance. She turned back to Danny. “Okay. Here I am. What did you want to talk about?”

Danny looked hurt. “I want to talk about what in the heck is going on with you. You’ve been cold and distant ever since the party and you were _barely_ invested before that. Every time I get anywhere near you, you either tense up or get all upset with me. I’ve lost count of the times you’ve snapped at me this week over the dumbest, most trivial things.”

“Well, I’m sorry if I wasn’t a ball of sunshine while you’ve been moping around my apartment. I _had_ to study. I can’t just wander into a classroom and ace my finals like Danny Lawrence.”

“But that’s just it!” Danny exclaimed. “Exams are over and we’re still fighting! I thought you’d lighten up after finals, but I’m _still_ getting the cold shoulder from you!”

“Maybe that’s because I haven’t been able to breathe for the last three weeks! Your passive-aggressive displays of ownership have made it _really_ difficult to want to be near you. It’s like I can’t even move or walk out of my apartment without you demanding to know where I’m going! You’re my _girlfriend,_  Danny— you’re not my dad. I really don’t need another parent!”

Danny folded her arms over her chest. “Is this why you didn’t invite me to go to Canada with you?”

Laura gave her a disbelieving look. “I didn’t realize you were fishing for an invitation.”

“Why should I have to ask _?_ Why wouldn’t you _want_ to invite me? Why am I always the one who instigates _everything?_ If I left you in charge, all we’d be doing is watching Netflix with a respectable distance between us on your couch.”

Laura rubbed her hands over her face. “I’m done... I can’t do this anymore. You wanted to talk, and now we’ve talked, so this should be the end of it. I’m going to go back to find a present for my dad, and then I’m going home. You’re free to come with me, but I am _seriously_ not kidding when I tell you that I am done with this discussion.”

 _“I’m_ not done with it, Laura!” Danny insisted, visibly getting more upset. “We’re talking about our relationship here and you’re acting like you couldn’t care less about it!”

“That’s because I’m _unhappy,_ Danny!” Laura cried in frustration. “All we’re doing is making each other miserable. I can’t be the only one who sees that.”

Danny’s face went sickly pale. “What—what are you saying?”

Laura exhaled. “I don’t know what I’m saying! I’m just not _happy_ anymore. And you aren’t either.”

There was a long, awful pause between them as the full implication of her words set in. Everything was out on the table now, and Danny looked like she instantly regretted bringing this up in the first place. But Laura couldn’t take back her words, no matter how painful they were to hear. It was useless trying to pretend things were fine when nothing could have been further from the truth.

Danny stared hopelessly off into the distance in an attempt to gather her thoughts. Laura just felt like she was going to be sick. And it had been such a beautiful morning.  

“Maybe…” said Danny with some hesitation, “maybe we need to take a break.”

Laura couldn’t have predicted that for the world. She glanced up at Danny in shock. “Are you being serious?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, though she clearly wasn’t convinced. “I mean, you’re unhappy, and I can’t fix that. All I seem to be doing is making it worse, and the last thing I want is for you to start resenting me.”

Laura could scarcely believe she was suggesting this, and it must have shown visibly on her face. Not three weeks ago, the thought of losing Danny was unbearable. And now?

Now she felt nothing.

“Maybe a break could do us some good,” Danny continued half-heartedly. “It could give us time to think things over and decide what it is we really want. You’re going to be leaving for Canada, anyway, so why don’t we give each other some space? Who knows, maybe you’ll even miss me after a while. Even my constant smothering.”

Laura softly shook her head. “Danny, I—”

“Hey! I get it. I really do. You’re tired and everything feels hopeless right now, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. I honestly think this is the best thing we can do to help mend our relationship. We’ll take some time to recharge our batteries, and... then we’ll see if they still work together.”  

She was smiling a little weakly now, but Laura was having difficulty meeting it with one of her own. Danny moved forward and cupped Laura’s cheek before tilting it up to face her. “I love you, Laura, and I know you love me, too. I think we make a pretty good team. And if we’re meant to be together, we’ll work our way through this. I have faith that we’ll find each other again.”

Laura tried to find something to say, but nothing else would come. Danny pulled her into a long, lingering embrace, but all Laura felt was the cold.

\----

The advent of dusk brought a heavy grouping of clouds above the distant, frozen horizon. The skies had faded from somber, ochre streaks to muted greys as the snow fell.

Laura hadn’t gone back to her apartment after she’d abandoned the markets earlier that day. She preferred, instead, to let the wind carry her to her cold, familiar footpaths around the park. The place was deserted: beautiful but stark under a blanket of newfallen snow. The river had formed a thin layer of ice on it, but a few cracks were visible where the water was still flowing.

Danny had left her hours ago with calm, light assurances that things would be better after the break once they’d had some time to think things over. Laura wondered it this was Danny’s way of taking control of the situation: delaying the inevitable, foregone conclusion that they didn’t work together as a couple. But Danny was convinced that some distance would solve things, and Laura vaguely wanted to believe her. Sadly, she was becoming more of a realist these days, and she just couldn’t see a future with Danny. Four weeks apart without any communication might test her resolve on the matter, but it wouldn’t be fair to string Danny along when her heart just wasn’t in this anymore.

Laura buried her face in her scarf, trying to fight off the chill. So many thoughts were heavily pressing down on her, but only one was more awful than all the rest.

Laura had failed. Both Danny and herself. She readily acknowledged her part in all of this. She had grown somewhat used to having her heart broken, but she wasn’t used to breaking anyone else’s. For all of Danny’s words about the good a break would do them, it was clear that Laura had hurt her. She had tried so hard to be everything for Laura, even if that wasn’t what Laura wanted.

Strangely enough, as she circled around the park, her thoughts quietly drifted to her mother. What would she say if she were here? How would she have comforted her? There were so many nights back home in Canada that Laura had spent crying in her room, curled near the lamplight and wishing for all the world that her mother was there to hold her. Her fingers itched to feel the small bracelet sitting back home on her bookshelf. Laura always needed something to hold whenever her mom seemed too far away.

The twilight hours of Silas had begun as the light slowly faded behind the clouds. Laura wandered aimlessly through the snow without any direction or purpose. Her breath escaped in cold puffs of air, and her gaze was fixed on the ground. She was grateful for the solitude, even if she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so alone.

JP, Perry, and LaF would undoubtedly have welcomed her into their home, indulging Laura’s grief with some calorie-laden comfort and a variety of terrible science-fiction films. But Laura felt like she needed time with her misery— or time to consider what it meant. A little introspection would hardly kill her since Laura had mastered the art of denial. 

Perhaps her thoughts should've been with Danny, wondering if she was home or doing okay. Unfortunately, as she approached the park’s snow-covered bridge, her thoughts shifted back to a more familiar agony.

Carmilla. Time and time again. The darkness that Laura still longed for. A soft pair of lips that tasted of promises that were, lamentably, never spoken.

She slowly walked up to the center of the bridge, stopping to rest her arms on the wooden railing. She looked up at the clouds and silently wished she could see the stars above her.

She couldn’t help it. She _ached_ for Carmilla. She had since the moment she’d walked away from her. The small, ridiculous hope that Carmilla would come after her was only a wasted thought. Nothing more.

Yet the night still played repeatedly in her mind with a soft, filtered focus on every detail: the warmth of Camilla’s touch, the sweetness of her mouth, the whisper of Laura’s name on her lips. No other sensation that Laura had ever experienced could compare to what she’d felt beneath those stars. Had she been foolish to walk away from her? Would it have been so very wrong just to give into what they both so desperately wanted?

But Laura knew better. She knew this wouldn’t have ended after a night of passionate sex under the stars. Feelings would have been involved... Angsty, romantic feelings that Laura would have to deal with when Carmilla was gone. To call it love would have been crazy since they’d only known each other for maybe a month, but to call it nothing but physical attraction dismissed every proper feeling in her heart. She’d found her. She’d lost her. She’d fallen asleep that night with a warm leather jacket tucked in her arms. Walking away from Carmilla was about self-preservation. She’d wanted everything, and Carmilla had nothing more to offer her.  

Laura breathed in. She was grateful, at least, that this had ended before it ever really began. Bitter tragedies were best left to the poets… or maybe a really good episode of Doctor Who.

She tucked her hands deep inside her pockets after brushing the snow off her sleeves. It seemed like a good night to spend with the Doctor and maybe some of the Ponds.

As she went to move to the other side of the bridge, an instinctive awareness crept under her skin. She suddenly turned back, gazing into the distance where the poplar trees gave way to Austrian pines.

What she found was a bright pair of eyes staring back at her through tangled branch and snow. A dark creature was crouching beneath the trees, nearly invisible under the cover of the night. It was all black— a spectre in the darkness— but it’s shape was distinctly feline. Laura blinked as the animal stood up and quickly disappeared into the forest.

She had never seen a panther in the wild before. Did Austria even _have_ panthers? It was an unsettling thought since deer and squirrels were the wildlife she was generally used to seeing.

Her musings carried her to the small grocer’s market that was just a few blocks from her home. She would be flying back to Canada on Wednesday morning, so she only needed a few things to last her till then. Milk, apples, a new bag of cookies, paté to go with her crackers. When she stepped out of the door with her small grocery bag, the place was about ten minutes from closing.

“Pardon me, fräulein, _"_  said a voice from the shadows, and she turned to see a kindly-looking gentleman. He had to have been in his mid-to-late eighties, though there was a spryness to his frail appearance. “Forgive my disruption, but do you think I might trouble you for a moment of your time?”   

“Um, sure,” said Laura, smiling politely. “How can I help you?”

His own smile was soft and congenial; a smile she often saw on her grandfather. He took an unsteady step towards her while leaning heavily on his cane. “You are a student at the university, yes?”

“Silas University? Yes I am.”

“There’s a girl, I think, you might know from this area. She would be, oh, about your age. Dark hair… Dark eyes... Perhaps a little taller? A very _beautiful_ girl.”

Laura shrugged with a kind smile, trying to humor the old man. “There’s a _lot_ of people taller than I am,” she said with a gentle laugh. “You might need to be a little more specific.”

“I speak of the girl you’ve been seeing.”

Laura’s smile fell from her face. Her sense of humor completely vanished. A sickening feeling spread through her body as she stared at the man with silent dread. “What?”

His lips formed into a solemn frown. “I think you know of whom I speak of.”

“I’m sorry...” she whispered before quickly stepping back in an attempt to escape the situation.

A bony hand grabbed hold of her wrist in a cold, iron grip. “I warn you, fräulein…” he muttered with dark intention, “you are in grave danger _..._ ”

“Ah, there you are!” came a voice from out of nowhere, causing Laura to swiftly turn around. Her confusion turned into frozen bewilderment as she took in the figure walking towards them.

It was a woman who defined the very essence of regality: tall, slender, and intimidating. Her skin was a dark, beautiful color that complimented the diamonds around her neck. She wore a long coat with a mink fur trim, suggesting her wealth and class. Her eyes were sharp and deeply menacing, even as a smile graced her lips.

“Whatever are you doing out this late?” said the woman, addressing the older man. “Your poor children must be worried _sick_. You can’t just go running off like this, Cornelius.”

He looked as though he wanted to speak, but she didn’t give him a chance to respond. Instead, her gaze fell quickly on Laura, and her smile grew even wider. “Thank you _so much_ for finding him, dear,” she said with a silky voice. “Uncle Cornelius likes to wander off after he’s taken his medication.”

Laura’s mind went totally blank. She had no blessed clue what to say. She looked back and forth between the two of them as her hand slipped out from his grasp.

“Oh dear,” said the woman with affected concern. “He hasn’t said anything to upset you, has he?”

Laura swallowed. “I…I don’t think so. He just asked me if I’d seen some girl.”

The woman glanced up at the older man with a look of shock and amusement. “Uncle, really!  How many times must I apologize for this terrible behavior?” She placed a comforting hand on Laura’s arm. “Well, never you mind, Gidget. He’s just a harmless old bigot who can’t abide the thought of women romancing each other— isn’t that right, Uncle?”

The man’s face grew pale with rage as he worked his jaw in silent anger. He looked down at Laura, then back up to the woman as if wanting to issue her a challenge.

A car door suddenly opened and shut behind them. Laura turned around to see a black Mercedes beside the curb. There was a large man waiting by the passenger side of the vehicle, dressed in a suit that was black from head to toe.  

“The car is here to to take you home, Uncle...” said the woman with a calm, collected voice. Her crimson lips and stark white teeth gave her a smile that looked curiously threatening.

The old man seemed to hesitate for a moment before two men appeared from out of the shadows. They wore the same tailored black suits as the man currently standing beside the vehicle. Laura felt the charge in the air as they quietly flanked the older gentleman. His eyes flickered between them both before they rested coldly on the woman.

“This is not over,” he hissed under his breath, clenching his teeth together.

“It never is,” she replied with some amusement, waving a hand as he was escorted to the car.

Laura watched as he disappeared into the back seat of the Mercedes. Who in the frilly hell was _that?_ And who were these people that came to get him? Cold terror raced through her heart as she watched the car drive off into the night, its lights quickly fading from view as the snow gently swirled all around her.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” said the woman, disturbing Laura from her thoughts. She looked up at the figure towering above her and tried to remember what her name was.

“Oh... Sorry. Hello! I’m… I’m Laura.”

“Laura…” said the woman, testing the name out. “A pretty foreigner wandering the streets of Silas? You must be one of mine.”

Laura looked puzzled. “I’m— I’m sorry?”

“Oh forgive me; I haven’t introduced myself! I’m Matska Belmonde: Silas University's least remarkable Dean of Students.” Laura’s eyes went comically wide as the woman gamely laughed. “Don’t worry, Gidget. Students _never_ recognize me. I don’t often get a chance to visit my little subjects.”

Her tone was playful, but there was something in her mannerisms that suggested she was very much a ruler here. Laura knew very little about Silas’s Dean of Students, but nothing about this woman suggested the ordinary.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Belmonde," said Laura with some apprehension.

“Oh please: call me Mattie. All my friends do, and I’m certain we’ll be _good_ friends in future.”

She winked at Laura just as another vehicle pulled up near the curb beside them: another black Mercedes with the same meticulous escort. Laura took a cautious step backwards.

“And that’s my ride!” she said with a grin before gesturing to the man that opened the door for her. She looked back at Laura. “I look forward to seeing you next semester, Laura Hollis. Have a _wonderful_ Christmas break.”

Laura stared as the Silas Dean of Students left her standing there, frozen on the street corner. She couldn’t remember when she’d ever been so intimidated…

...Nor did she remember telling Ms. Belmonde her last name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe the show is really over. What a fantastic little series. Now please excuse me while I curl up into a ball and watch Carmilla and Laura kiss each other on Tumblr. =P


	9. An Invitation

The Silver Elm was one of the finest Mediterranean restaurants in all of Graz. It hosted Styria’s most elite set of players, capitalists, and predators from the wealthier classes. Late reservations for a Sunday evening were almost impossible to come by, but Matska never seemed to have a problem when she happened to be doing business in Graz.

She had just finished a three-course selection of delicacies from southern Italy. The wine was exceptionally good this evening; the sommelier had chosen a robust vintage. Her companion was listening attentively to one of her anecdotes about slavers she’d encountered in the Caribbean. The candlelight played exquisitely over his dark, handsome features, which Mattie subtly approved of.

 _“Pardon,_ Ms. Belmonde,” their waiter interrupted before handing Mattie a small envelope. She arched an eyebrow as she took it from his hand, then opened it to examine the contents. The letter was short but perfectly succinct. Mattie wouldn’t have expected any less. She turned to the waiter with a practiced smile and effectively dismissed him with her thanks.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Edmonde,” she said with an apologetic air. “It seems that something has just come up. I’m afraid I’ll have to cut our evening short.”

“Not at all,” he courteously replied, his voice deep and elegant. Mattie approved of that as well. It was a very pleasing combination.

“You’re _sure_ you don’t mind?”

He lifted his hands before clasping them together again. “Time waits for no man, though it would wait for a woman who knew precisely how to stop it.”

Mattie smirked as she stood up from the table, and her companion followed suit. “We’ll have to continue this again some other time— hopefully sooner rather than later.”

“I look forward to it, Matska,” he flashed a devilish smile as he brought her hand to his lips.

Mattie grinned. He was the perfect gentleman. She wondered what his blood would taste like.

 _“Au revoir,_ Edmonde,” she quietly whispered with a hint of seduction in her voice. She touched his face with a soft caress before she quietly slipped around him. She could feel his gaze on her retreating form as she headed gracefully for the staircase. It was so easy sometimes. _Much_ too easy if she were being honest with herself.   

But what could she do? She had mastered the art of seduction several hundred years ago. Still, there were far more interesting challenges to be had, and tonight’s would be no exception.

Upon descending the staircase to the ground floor, she had a few private words with the hostess. The woman nodded and directed her to a stairway that led down into a secluded dining area. The room was warm, quiet, and dim. There were hardly any guests at the tables. It was the perfect place for a tête-à-tête with someone who was hoping to avoid detection.

“Hello Mattie,” said a beautiful voice that was low and deliciously menacing. Mattie smiled as she slowly turned around, finding Mircalla waiting for her in the corner. She was sitting in the darkest, most secluded part of the room, lit only by the faintest candlelight. As always, her sister looked utterly flawless: soft with a predatory stare.

“Well, well, well,” said Mattie airily before taking the seat across from her. “The prodigal daughter has finally returned. I was wondering when you were going to say hello.”

Mircalla’s lips turned up at the corner. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Mattie waved her hand dismissively. “Dinner with an investor— nothing more. I met him in New Orleans on a business trip this summer when I was touring the beautiful South. He’s a fourth generation Hoodoo doctor and _faultlessly_ charming. Do you approve?”

“Mmmm...” Mircalla casually offered, “he’s magnificent, though not exactly my type. Was dinner strictly a business affair, or have you developed a taste for Creole again?”

Mattie heartily laughed at her comment as a waiter approached their table. He was carrying an unopened bottle of wine, and Mircalla nodded for him to pour it.

“You know a lady never discusses such things,” said Mattie as their waiter poured the wine. “I thought you knew that better than anyone, Mircalla… Or is it _Carmilla_ these days?”

Mircalla smirked. “You've been doing your homework.”

“You’ve _hardly_ been subtle, darling. One would think you wanted the whole world to know that you'd arrived back in town.”

“Subtlety was never my strong suit," said Mircalla, bringing the wine to her lips.

“And yet, it's the only way anyone ever wins the long, methodical game of chess.” Mattie casually leaned back in her chair. “So! Shall we continue these little pleasantries? Or are we going to discuss what you’re really doing here and what your _intentions_ are?”

Her sister absently studied her glass, her expression cool and disaffected. “You knew perfectly well what my intentions were before you sat down at this table.”

“Perhaps,” said Mattie, lifting her own glass as well. “It’s hard to know these days. A lot can happen in seventeen years, Mircalla. I’m actually surprised you're still alive.”

“Really? How flattering. I guess the idiots you sent to kill me weren’t as skilled as your colleagues were hoping for.”

“I had nothing to do with it. That was all Thalia’s foolishness. She seemed to believe that you posed a threat to us.”

“Did she now?” Mircalla smirked.

“She did. Strygia did as well. I was content to let well enough alone after you brutally dismembered our mother. But all victories come with a price, beloved, and you removed a powerful player from the board.”

"I’ve actually removed three,” said Mircalla lightly, “and I’m only just getting started.”

Mattie straightened up in her chair. “So you’re playing the game of revenge, then. That’s impressive, darling, but where does it begin? Or more importantly, where does it end? You’ve buried Mother. You murdered Thalia whether you choose to take credit for it or not. I spent four days reassembling Corvae’s entourage, so really, what more could you want?”

Mircalla’s face suddenly turned to stone. “Every single one of them.”

“The Board? Our coven? All of the Hasturmenchen? Your ambitions are lofty, but unreasonable.”

Mircalla tilted her head to the side. “Are you starting to doubt me, Mattie?”

“I don’t question your anger or your resilience, darling, but I question the plausibility of what you’re suggesting. Do you really think you can take on _everyone_ who had _any_ connections to our mother? Did you honestly believe that smearing Corvae in front of the Board members would lure them out of the shadows? Strygia is _paranoid—_ she has been from the beginning. There’s no way you’re going to tempt her into a confrontation. And as for the Stranger, he hasn’t been seen in centuries. He sends his representatives to do his bidding. You can kill the priest, but it would only incite the others, and then where would you be? Fighting an entire order of monks who have existed for six thousand centuries?” Mattie swirled the wine in her glass. “You’re not that foolish, darling. Cunning and deadly though you may be, it’s a game you’d never win.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to give me what I want?” said Mircalla with a wounded look.

“What? Information? Have you already exhausted your dwindling pool of resources?” Mattie sighed. “Torturing Strygia’s people was a poor strategy to begin with; it isn’t going to get you anywhere close to her because she doesn’t trust _anyone_ with _anything._ Besides, I’ve lost count of the number of bodies you’ve torn through in the last month or so. The locals will only accept so many murders before they start asking questions.”

“Are deaths in Silas so rare these days?” said Mircalla with a dry expression.  

“Darling, there’s _deaths,_ and then there’s headless corpses we’re pulling out of a river,” Mattie chided.

“Fair enough. I’m more than happy to kill something far less mortal.”

“You mean the coven? Your brothers and sisters? Have we all become targets for your vengeance?”

Mircalla smirked. “I guess that depends on how many of you have tried to kill me.”

“More than a few, I dare suspect, but there aren’t many of us still in Austria. Mother’s burial was an open invitation for the family to all move on. Tear up the weed, and all of its seeds are going to scatter to the wind.”

“And yet you stayed...” Mircalla remarked as she took another sip of her wine.

“What can I say? They offered me the position, and I would have been a fool to refuse it. The work is tedious and the Board is insufferable, but it _does_ have its little perks. I didn’t think I could stand being in Austria this long, but the place has strangely grown on me.”

A dark smile touched Mircalla’s lips. “I’m glad you feel so at home.”

Mattie ran a thumbnail over her finger. “So... should I be worried, Mircalla?”

Her sister actually started laughing. “I don’t know. _Should_ you be?”

“Well. I used to think that blood was thicker than water, but that isn’t the case now, is it?”

Mircalla said nothing as she lightly drummed her fingers on top of the tablecloth. She was studying Mattie, watching her every movement, and it was mildly starting to unnerve her.

“I have no interest in killing you, Mattie,” she said after a lengthy pause.

“And William?”

“What of him?”

“Do you plan on granting him a similar courtesy?”

Mircalla scoffed. “If I actually thought he posed a threat, I would have killed him years ago. What I _want,_ Mattie, are the locations of Strygia and the High Priest of Hastur.”

Mattie placed her glass on the table with bored affectation. “Did you really think I would just _give_ them to you? Why would I risk such a thing?”

Mircalla gave her a sinister look as she produced a deck of cards from her jacket. She set them down on the table in front of her and moved them over to Mattie.  

“Cut the cards,” she stated lightly, sliding her fingers off the deck.

Mattie quirked an eyebrow in response, but she smiled at Mircalla all the same. “This old game? It’s been awhile since we’ve played it. What are the stakes this time? Are we playing for lives, or are we playing for information? And whose blood will be involved?”

Mircalla watched her in perfect silence. Her eyes were black— even empty. “Cut the cards,” she muttered again, and her voice was colder. Deadlier.

Mattie cautiously leaned back in her chair. There was something off about her sister. An unnatural light was gleaming in her eyes, turning them a gilded yellow color. Mattie could feel the heat coming off of her, and it was too much warmth for a vampire. Something had changed since the last time she’d seen her, and whatever it was, Mattie feared it.

“What if I told you the Hasturmenchen have no interest in you?” Mattie said. “That all of the violence you’ve enacted against the Board is of little consequence to them? The High Priest told me this himself; they don’t _care_ if you’re still alive. They’re content to go on with their futile little lives, praying to a long-dead God.”

“The Hasturian priest represents the Stranger— you’ve said as much yourself. This won’t end until his blood is on my teeth, and I’m slowly losing my patience. _”_

Mattie tapped her fingers against her forearm. Yes, there was only one way this could end. The game had started, and Mircalla was already moving against Mattie’s closest pawns.

“Strygia has flown West. Somewhere in the Americas where she can fret over all her unanswered prophecies. I doubt you or I will be seeing her again before the Governor’s summit in the spring. More to the point, she’ll be heavily guarded now that you’ve proven to be a certified _threat_ to her _._ She isn't anywhere _near_ as reckless as Corvae or Thalia, I'm afraid.”

“What about the Hasturian priest?”

“I have no idea where he’s gone. I only know their order will be gathering for the solstice at the great Drowned Cathedral— wherever _that_ is. You know how these fools _love_ their ancient rituals and sacred little secrets. Once you’ve stripped away the ornamentation, they’re little more than a pious band of cannibals.”

Mircalla placed a finger against her mouth in quiet contemplation. “Well... I guess that means I’ll be seeing you again sometime later in the spring.”

Mattie narrowed her eyes for a moment. This discussion wasn’t quite to her liking.

Perhaps it was time for a different strategy...

One she’d hoped to save for later in the game.  

“I almost forgot...” Mattie grinned, “I happened to run into an old friend of yours last night. Emphasis on _old_ and less on the friendly part. Dear Cornelius has been asking after you again.”

“‘The ‘ _Baron’_ Vordenberg?’” said Mircalla with a laugh. “I suppose it was inevitable.”

“Inevitable indeed. The old fool is determined to have you beautiful and bleeding on a spike. I don’t know why you suffer the clod to chase you. I would have killed him long ago.”

“Call it sentimentality,” Mircalla sighed as she rested her chin in her hand.

“You’re not exactly the sentimental type when it comes to your enemies, kitty-cat.”

Her sister shrugged. “He might be useful. At least while our goals are still aligned.”

“You mean hunting _evil?”_ Mattie scoffed.

“Something like that,” Mircalla smirked. “I wouldn’t worry too much about him, Mattie. He’s harmless enough for the most part. Whatever meager powers he’s acquired over the years aren’t enough to make him a threat. And even if they were,” she said, leaning back, “I always plan for every contingency. ”

“I should hope so,” said Mattie airily, “less for your sake than the human's your seducing.”

The smirk slipped away from Mircalla’s face. It gave Mattie the smallest hint of satisfaction.

“Oh,” she continued. “Did I forgot tell you? I made a new acquaintance last night. Both Cornelius and I were given the opportunity to introduce ourselves to the pretty young thing you’ve been courting. Such a _charming_ girl— almost the very picture of provincial beauty and innocence. Blondish hair, adorable brown eyes…How could you possibly resist her? Now what was her name again... Oh yes. Laura Hollis. I thought she was utterly _exquisite._ You’ve always had such impeccable taste, Mircalla. It’s no wonder Mother used you to lure them in.”

Her sister’s features were totally expressionless: hard, pale, and unmoving. And yet, as Mattie studied them carefully, she was certain Mircalla’s eye was slightly twitching.

“You know me,” Mircalla replied in a voice that was devoid of any mirth “I like to keep a girl in every corner.”

“Yes you do, don’t you?” Mattie reached for her glass again. “I bet she tastes _divine._ Oh, you would have laughed: the poor thing was trembling when Cornelius cornered her in the dark outside her home.” Mircalla subtly raised an eyebrow, and Mattie smirked behind her wine glass. “Don’t worry, darling. I think I was able to smooth things over once the old fool had left.”

“Did you now?” Mircalla whispered, her eyes bright and gleaming. Mattie had clearly touched a nerve, no matter how disaffected her sister seemed.

“I always look after your interests, kitty, though you need to be more discreet with your snacking. If Cornelius was bold enough to approach the girl, then what would your _real_ enemies do to her?”

Mircalla tightly clenched her jaw before her mouth turned up into a smile. “Probably the same thing we always do when we get tired of playing with our food.”

Mattie said nothing. She watched as Mircalla quietly stood up from the table, reaching into her wallet to retrieve a few bills before setting them down near the candles.

“It’s always great to see you, Mattie,” she said with effortless charm. “I’ll try and be more discreet the next time I dump a body in the river."

Mattie gave her a hard stare. “You’re playing with fire, Mircalla. All this death to sate your need for vengeance? Mother would be so proud.”

Mircalla slowly looked down at the floor, then pointedly back up to Mattie. The smirk on her lips was dark and vicious. “Not anymore,” she whispered.

Mattie watched as Mircalla disappeared, leaving her to seethe in the silence. The conversation hadn’t gone as well she’d hoped, but she would concede a single battle for the war.

Her gaze absently fell on the cards Mircalla had left on the table. She quirked an eyebrow as she slowly reached over to cut the deck in half. High card wins, low card falls. The game was simple enough. She turned it over, and her gaze suddenly narrowed.      

All of the cards were blank.

\----

Laura stood in the main foyer of her building, sorting through a small stack of letters. It was Monday afternoon, still early yet, and the room was practically an ice box. She pulled the sleeves of her flannel down while flipping curiously through the envelopes. She didn’t often get mail unless it was a parcel from her dad containing random comforts from home. Maple cookies, Coffee Crisp bars, a newfangled brand of bear spray… Laura suspected she had enough of the stuff to set up her own small shop in the Austrian wilderness.

She began walking back up the staircase to her floor as she continued to sort through her mail. Home was such a strange concept these days: a portrait of comfort more than the real, physical embodiment of it. Perhaps that was because it felt like she was backsliding into the same, familiar patterns of disappointment. She’d just finished her first semester of college with very mixed results. Academically speaking, it could have gone better. Romantically speaking? It was a mess. She’d pushed herself to the breaking point this year, and she didn’t have a whole lot to show for it.

Still, she was anxious to see her dad again— along with a few of her extended relatives. She was leaving Wednesday morning on the first flight to Toronto with a brief layover in Frankfurt. Packing was a hassle since she’d gone a little overboard with some of the gifts for her dad. Her apartment was also in a small state of chaos since she’d dedicated the day to doing laundry.

Laura was slowly approaching her door when a familiar voice suddenly called to her:

“Hey...”

Laura looked up. She nearly dropped her mail on the floor when she found Carmilla right across the hall from her.

There was a brief moment of wild, uncharted panic before it gradually settled into quiet shock. She couldn’t quite process that Carmilla was standing in the doorway of her next-door neighbor’s apartment. Carmilla— as usual— looked unfairly gorgeous dressed in her casual attire: a denim jacket paired with a leather vest and _good hell, was she always this attractive?_   

“Um. Hi...” Laura stammered blankly, feeling woefully inarticulate. In all fairness, Carmilla was standing in her hallway, and she may or may not have envisioned this particular scenario during a _very_ interesting dream a few nights back.

“Sorry...” Carmilla apologized, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just…” She gestured vaguely with her hand. “I wasn’t really expecting to find you on my doorstep.”

Carmilla smiled. She was seriously just too beautiful. How was it possible for someone to _always_ look that good?

Speaking of appearances, this probably wasn’t the greatest time for Laura to be sporting her “laundry day” look. Not that she was trying to _impress_ her or anything, but she was used to being a little more put together during these casual run-ins with Carmilla. The messy bun and yoga pants weren’t exactly the height of sophistication, but her white “I ♥ Cookies” t-shirt under the flannel was fifteen different kinds of embarrassing.

They stood like that for a moment in silence. Laura tried not to stare at Carmilla’s lips. “So…” she began a little more hesitantly. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping we could talk,” Carmilla replied, taking a step further into the hallway.

“You want to— talk?”

Carmilla nodded. “Somewhere more private, if that’s alright with you.”

Yes. Talking was perfectly alright with Laura. She was really good at talking. She might be struggling at this particular moment in time, but that was neither here nor there.

“Sure!” said Laura as she hastily opened her door and motioned for Carmilla to step inside. Carmilla favored her with another beautiful smile, and Laura had to remind herself to breathe correctly.

She was just about to follow her inside when she caught sight of LaF down the hallway. LaF was staring wide-eyed at Laura with a bag of takeout hanging from their mouth. The keys to their apartment were dangling in the lock as LaF wordlessly gestured to Laura’s doorway. They moved up their hands to show “10” fingers then “5” with a questioning look on their face.

Laura bit her lip and nodded. LaF gave her an impressed two-thumbs up. She felt her ears starting to burn with embarrassment, so she quickly retreated inside of her apartment.

Carmilla was standing in the center of the living room, quietly observing her surroundings. There was something incredibly surreal about having her here, yet strangely fitting at the same time. Laura lamented that the place wasn’t tidier, what with all of the laundry piles everywhere. Still, at least everything looked reasonably clean if you ignored all of the empty cookie boxes.

“So... this is me,” said Laura nervously as she ran a hand over her hair. “Sorry about the mess. I’ve been doing a ton of laundry since I’m heading back to Canada on Wednesday.”

Carmilla looked up at a painting on the wall. “It’s nice. Your aunt has good taste.”

“Yeah. I’m lucky I'm her favorite niece since none of my other cousins got to stay here during college.” She spotted her Wonder Woman underwear on the couch and quickly snatched it behind her back. “Um, can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got cider in the fridge and a few cans of Bad Wolf. Maybe a bottle of Baileys in one of my cupboards. I can also make coffee or cocoa if that sounds better—”

“A grape soda would be lovely. Thank you.”

Laura grinned as she retreated into the kitchen, trying to get a handle on her nerves. She wasn’t sure why Carmilla was here, but she didn’t want her to leave anytime soon. She quickly opened her fridge, then shut it. Was she supposed to give her a glass with the can? Wasn’t that proper grape soda etiquette? Why hadn’t anyone ever taught her these things? She opened her cupboard and looked for a glass that wasn’t completely covered in water spots. Her heart was beating a little too frantically as she grabbed a can of Bad Wolf out of the fridge. Danny thought the stuff was disgusting. She would always complain when Laura bought it. Laura thought it was kind of charming that Carmilla had actually asked for it.

As she made her way back into the living room area, she noticed Carmilla was standing in front of her bookshelf. Laura was expecting a comment on her questionable taste in literature, but Carmilla was curiously engrossed with Laura’s photos.  

Laura sighed. “I see you’ve met the folks.”

“More or less,” Carmilla grinned. She picked up one of the photos near the front in a dusty, silver frame. “Is this your mother?”

It was a picture of Laura walking hand-in-hand with her mom at the beach on Prince Edward Island. Laura was only five at the time, and she had to admit, they looked adorable.

“That’s my mom,” she said with quiet affection, “and this charmer over here is my dad. There aren’t a lot of photos of the three of us together since he was usually the one holding the camera.”  

Carmilla carefully set the frame down. “She’s beautiful. I can definitely see where you get it from.”

Laura blushed. “I couldn’t hold a candle to her. She broke a lot of hearts back in her day. Dad used to joke that we could never move to Salzburg since all of mom’s exes wanted to kill him. But Dad was a bit of a heartbreaker himself. I think a _lot_ of ladies were hoping he’d remarry.”

“Well...” Carmilla smirked. “I guess the Hollises are a certified family of heartbreakers.”

“Yep...that's us,” said Laura glumly. She hadn't heard from Danny all weekend, and she probably should have been more upset about it.

“What’s this?” said Carmilla as she gently lifted the bracelet off of a framed photo of her mother.

“Oh,” said Laura, unconsciously reaching to take it before she physically had to stop herself from doing so. “It’s was a... present mom gave me for my seventh birthday. I wanted a bracelet with all of our birthstones. Aquamarines for me, diamonds for my mom, and some sapphires for my dad.”

Carmilla examined the well-worn silver with a soft, bemused expression. “I gather there used to be more gemstones here.”

“Oh yeah,” Laura laughed. “I lost a lot of them. They obviously weren’t real or mom never would have let me wear this unless it was for some special occasion. But I wore this poor thing everywhere I went, so it isn’t really in the greatest condition. I love it, though... It was one of the best gifts my mom ever gave to me. I had plans to have it reset into a necklace or something, just so I could wear it again.”

Carmilla carefully set it back on the photo with delicate, even reverent care. “A little something to class up your yoga ensemble?”

Laura smirked. “Think I could use it?”

Carmilla’s eyebrows lifted suggestively as her gaze wandered down Laura’s body. “Actually,” she said, letting it linger on Laura’s backside, “I don’t think _anything_ is needed.”

Laura felt a blush creep up her neck. She wasn’t ready for this kind of flirting. Well, maybe she _was,_ but it wasn’t a good idea. Flirting led to kissing which led to feelings.

She suddenly realized how long she’d been standing there, staring at Carmilla. She blushed again and reached up to hand her the glass and soda can.

“Thank you,” said Carmilla warmly. She had been watching Laura the entire time. Her fingers brushed Laura’s as she took the drink away from her, but Laura flinched away from the touch.

“No problem,” she replied, retreating a few steps back to the safety of her dining table. It was dangerous to be standing too close to Carmilla. It was dangerous to have her here in the first place.

The room lapsed into a heavy silence as Laura folded her arms over her chest. She was having a hard time meeting Carmilla’s gaze. The floor was suddenly more engrossing.

Why was she here? What did she want to say? Was she going to apologize for what happened Friday night? Or was this another attempt to seduce Laura with more kissing? And if that was the case, then why wasn’t Carmilla kissing her?  

There were so many things Laura wanted to say— so many things that were weighing on her mind. Her heart was still hurting from Carmilla’s earlier rejection, and the tension between them was more painful than exhilarating. But what was left to say about her feelings that hadn't already been said? She’d asked Carmilla for more than the stars and had made a complete idiot of herself in the process. The stubborn, confrontational side of her wanted to know _“Why?”_ and _“Wasn’t it good for you too?”_ But Laura was a reasonable, level-headed adult that understood the complexity of the situation.

A romance between them would never work out. Carmilla was gently going to explain this to her. She would be flattered that Laura had even entertained the idea, but she was only ever in it for the chase. Laura would nod and respectfully thank her for having the courage to say this to her face. They might exchange a few more casual flirtations before Carmilla would walk out of her apartment.  

That would be that. Laura would fly home to drink eggnog and sing carols with her family while she did her best not to think about Carmilla... Even though that’s probably all she would be doing.

The silence continued— strained and suspenseful. It came close to driving Laura insane. She watched as Carmilla set down her drink to cue the _serious_ conversation.

“Look—”

“—I’m sorry about last weekend,” Laura stammered before Carmilla could really begin. “I mean, I’m not sorry about kissing you necessarily, because… wow... that was pretty freaking amazing. But I said a lot of things about wanting and needing more from you and I probably shouldn’t have done that because we’re obviously not in a relationship or anything and pushing you was kind of unfair on my part. Like, I get that things are a little messed up between us for a bunch of different reasons... Mostly because you once threatened to kill me even though you were in danger at the time. And then you wanted to try being friends, which— admittedly— made me a little nervous, but then we hit it off and I started _feeling_ things when I knew it was objectively wrong. This thing between us,” she rambled on while gesturing vaguely between them, “is obviously a very one-sided deal, even though I’m pretty sure you were interested in something physical. And it’s not that I wasn’t interested too— in the whole _physical_ thing, I mean— it’s just that we both know this isn't going anywhere, but I wanted you to know that I’m _okay_ with that. There’s a lot you’re probably dealing with right now, and I have my own set of issues, so maybe the mature thing would be to cut our losses and just—”         

“Laura…” said Carmilla quietly.

Laura fell silent almost instantly. Her breath had caught in her throat. Carmilla had a way of rendering her speechless with nothing more than the whisper of her name.

Carmilla looked down at the ground for a moment. Her expression was almost bashful. Even uncertain. She couldn’t have known how beautiful she looked, standing beside the window, bathed in sunlight. She looked up at Laura: “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment you walked out of the solarium. If I’m being honest, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the first night we met outside the chapel.”

Laura’s heart suddenly filled with warmth. Her lips parted in disbelief. She placed a steadying hand on the chair behind her in order to keep herself from falling.

“You have to understand,” Carmilla continued, oblivious to the affect she was having on her, “I didn’t plan on any of this. I don’t easily let my guard down. I came back to Silas without any other intention than settling some _very_ old debts, but then you walked right into my sights, and I just couldn’t keep myself away from you.”

Laura knew how deeply she was blushing. She felt it instantly beneath her skin. She was _so_ not prepared to hear any of this, but she really needed Carmilla to keep talking.

“I thought I could handle it,” said Carmilla softly, taking another step towards her. “I thought I could indulge my curiosity without letting you get too close to me. You were so beguiling, yet you seemed so harmless. There’s an innocence about you that’s very disarming. I thought I’d get bored and eventually move on, but the more time I spent with you, the more I craved it.”

She was now standing inches away from Laura, forcing Laura to lean up a bit. The position left Laura incredibly vulnerable, but she had no intention of moving away.

“I tried to fight it,” Carmilla whispered. “I even tried to stay away from you. I put as much distance between us as I could before I let myself fall any deeper. But I couldn’t get you out of my system; I _needed_ to see you again. And then you were standing there, soft and beautiful, daring to ask me why I’d left.”

Carmilla’s hand moved up to Laura’s brow, gently moving her hair back. Laura closed her eyes at the touch. Her hand gripped the chair more tightly.

“You were right, you know,” Carmilla breathed, running her fingers down her neck. “We deserve better. I was a fool for thinking that anything less than all of you would ever satisfy me.”

Laura was speechless. Completely and utterly speechless. The sun couldn't have warmed her any better. She could actually see the brilliant color in Carmilla’s eyes; they were a brown as deep as the earth.

She briefly tucked her lip into her mouth. Carmilla watched the movement with rapt attention. She was probably waiting for Laura to say something, so Laura did her best to try and speak.

“What is it…” she whispered before she found her voice again. “...What is it you want from me?”

“To give me the chance to show you more. To give us the chance to be something different.” She took a step back, giving Laura room to breathe again. “I’m leaving Silas tomorrow. I’ll be traveling across Europe over the next few weeks, and I want you to come with me.”

Laura wasn’t sure she had heard her correctly. Carmilla’s mouth was far too distracting. “I… wait, _what?_ You’re leaving _tomorrow_ and… and you want me to go _with_ you?”

Carmilla nodded.

“Carm...” said Laura with nervous laughter, “you can’t really be serious. I mean,” she began as she started pacing the room, “I can’t just drop everything and go with you! I’m leaving for Canada on Wednesday morning and—”

“Tell your dad you’re changing your plans.”

“But I can’t! I’ve already booked my airline ticket and—”

“I’ve purchased a ticket for you. We’re flying to London.”

“You can’t just do that! I can’t afford that! I can’t even afford to—”

“The expenses are already covered. You’d be accompanying me at _my_ invitation, so it only stands to reason that I would cover everything.”

“Carm,” said Laura as she stopped in the center of the room. “This is all happening _way_ too fast.”

“I may be impulsive about a lot of things, cupcake, but I’m not being impulsive about this.” She calmly walked over to where Laura was standing, invading her personal space once again. Laura wasn’t the least bit upset about it, even if it caused her heart-rate to spike. “You’ve said how much you wanted to see the world; why not do it right now? How many opportunities do you get in a lifetime to just do what you want without worrying about the consequences? You can talk yourself out of this with a hundred different excuses, but all that really matters is what you _want._ Don’t let anyone decide that for you, and don’t let guilt stop you from living.”

Laura looked up at her, wide-eyed and uncertain. This felt like exceptionally poor timing. She had only just put things on hold with Danny, nevermind that she was supposed to be heading back to Canada for an entire month.

Danny. Oh heck. That was a separate issue.

Or was it even an issue anymore?

“Danny and I—”

She paused.

Carmilla lifted an eyebrow.

“Danny and I have been fighting,” was all she said.

Carmilla’s expression didn’t change. Her eyes were focused and intense. “If you were meant to be together, then I wouldn’t be standing here. But I think you already knew that.”

Laura bit her lip. Maybe she had a point. Maybe it was time to stop overthinking things. How many opportunities _does_ someone get to do something completely out of the ordinary? Yes, she was conflicted. Enthralled, but very conflicted about what this would mean in the long run. Yet somehow, the thought of being anywhere else without her caused a sharp stab of pain through Laura’s heart.

Carmilla must have sensed what she was thinking as she reached out to take Laura’s hand. “You asked me for something to hold onto,” she said softly. “Come with me. What do you have to lose?”

Laura looked up at her with breathless expectation. Carmilla was still standing in the sunlight. There was plenty for Laura to lose, but maybe that was the point. No one ever discovered anything without taking a risk.

“Where would we go?” she whispered so quietly, she wasn't sure if Carmilla would hear her.

Carmilla pressed their hands together while glancing momentarily up at the ceiling. “That depends, cutie: where do you want to go? I’d be happy to take you anywhere. I’ve made accommodations in London, Brighton, and Normandy, though we may be stopping briefly through Spain. Moscow is always interesting this time of year, if you can brave the temperatures, that is.”

Laura slid their fingers together. “What about— what about Paris?”

Carmilla’s smile was as bright as the sun. Laura had rarely seen anything more beautiful. Her own mouth curled up into a smile as well.

Oh crap.

Her father was going to kill her.

 


	10. A Serenade

Laura wasn’t sure what she was expecting when Carmilla suggested they take a tour of Europe together. She wasn’t even sure what had compelled her to say yes.

Clearly, she had lost her freaking mind.

Objectively, she understood that her motivation for doing this was based on some very selfish reasoning. The thrill of seeing Europe with Carmilla as a travelling companion was an opportunity she just couldn’t pass up. Was it reckless? Sure. Beyond the word, really. But when had that ever stopped her before? Was it also possible that this was just a clever ploy for Carmilla to get Laura into bed with her? The thought was interesting, but also a little offensive. Laura wasn’t the type of girl who could just be “bought.”

...And not that Laura was a _ho_ or anything, but if Carmilla wanted to bed her, then a trip to London wasn’t necessary.

Whatever the case, she’d consented to to be whisked off to Europe for what Carmilla described as a “scenic business trip.” When Laura asked if this “business” would potentially be dangerous, Carmilla winked and gave her a suggestive reply: _“That depends on your idea of dangerous, cutie._ _How much trouble do you think we could get up to?”_

Knowing Carmilla? The answer was a lot.

But that only made the suggestion even more tempting.

Still, Laura resolved to keep things strictly platonic between them while they spent the next few weeks getting to know each other better.

Or reasonably platonic, anyway.

Maybe just a _little_ platonic?

Laura was determined to keep things platonic for the first 72 hours, at least.

But there was more to this trip than the possibility of romantic dalliances while sleeping in a shared hotel room. Carmilla had tempted her with promises of new discoveries as well as a chance for Laura to see a different side of her. It was an intriguing prospect— especially with the addition of spending Christmas with Carmilla in Paris. Unfortunately, saying “yes” still caused a fair amount of anxiety because Carmilla remained an unknown variable.   

Explaining things to her father hadn’t been easy either. He’d taken the news about as well as she’d expected. After a solid fifty minutes of arguing with Laura about it, they broke out into a battle of increasingly awful puns and started insulting each other’s favorite hockey teams. It was ever the Hollis way to make an argument more ridiculous than it ever had any right to be in the first place, but her dad always said that anger was useless when you were angry with someone you loved. By the time they’d finally ended their Skype call, Laura felt a lot better about everything. Her dad wasn’t happy, but she’d promised to make it up to him, and their parting words had been full of love and affection.

Of course, there was a reasonable amount of guilt she had to carry since she hadn’t been completely honest with him. The particulars of her plans _might_ have been slightly fabricated: namely who she’d be traveling with and where they planned on going. Laura didn’t feel all that great about lying, but telling her dad the truth was kind of impossible. _“Hi dad. I’ll be traveling across Europe with a gorgeous girl who you’ve actually never heard of till now. She’s really charming and I can’t wait for you to meet her even though I’m not sure that will ever happen. She’s not really the type to overshare, you know? Oh, and she also killed a bunch of people.”_

There was also a bit of guilt over using her breakup with Danny to earn sympathy points from her father. Her dad loved Danny, so he was obviously pretty devastated about their recent split over the weekend. A painful breakup seemed like a semi-viable excuse to do something stupid and reckless—like booking a last-minute trip to London instead of going back to Canada for the holidays. And yes, some of the sentiments she’d expressed weren’t all that genuine, but there was enough honesty there to help ease Laura’s conscience. She was still pretty unhappy about where things stood with Danny, even if she wasn’t keen on getting back together with her.

All in all, it was pretty safe to say that Laura was a nervous wreck. She was suddenly packing for an entirely different journey with a totally unforeseeable outcome. After stress-eating several packages of Manner cookies and fretting over what kind of underwear to bring, she eventually collapsed on the couch in her living room for a solid four and a half hours of sleep.    

The waking hours before sunrise were even more distressing than the night before. She paced her apartment with anxious energy, repeatedly checking her luggage to see if everything she needed was there. Passport, credit cards, ibuprofen, cookies, her blue TARDIS Doctor Who scarf… Yes. Laura was ready. All the essentials were there.

Good hell, what had she gotten herself into?

She heard the quiet knock at her door, and it kick-started her heart all over again. She checked her reflection in the hallway mirror before making a beeline to the front entrance. When she opened the door and saw Carmilla standing there with a large cup of cocoa and a pastry bag, every single doubt Laura had felt up until that moment was replaced with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

“Ready to go, cutie?” Carmilla said with a beautiful smile. Of course she was wearing her leather pants again.

Laura couldn’t hold back her smile either. “Ready when you are, Carm.”

\----

To put it in the simplest terms possible, London was freaking incredible.

Laura hadn’t expected it to be anything less, but it seemed the city intended to exceed her highest expectations.

They’d arrived at around 10:45 that morning on a connecting flight from Graz through Vienna. It was the first time Laura had ever flown first class, and it was something she could get used to very quickly. There had been a tiny amount of panic when Carmilla provided the airline with a false name and passport at the desk, but Carmilla just winked at her as the employee handed them their boarding passes with a painted smile and curt dismissal.

“You said you wanted to know more about me, cupcake,” Carmilla had whispered in her ear. “First things first: I never travel anywhere under my given name.”  

Laura found this a little disconcerting, even as Carmilla’s closeness caused her heart to race. This trip was going to be _very_ difficult if she couldn’t find a way to keep that in check.

But it was hard to feel anything other than euphoric when she stepped off the plane at Heathrow airport.

They were in London. She was _finally_ in London.

And Laura had never been happier.

Their journey into the city had been fairly exciting despite the heavy amounts of traffic they’d encountered. Carmilla was a surprisingly fun traveling companion, and time had passed quickly while they conversed with each other. The London weather was brisk and gray, but it was warmer than the snow they’d left behind. The city was bustling, and Laura had been desperate to get out and immediately go exploring.

Carmilla had booked them a two bedroom suite in a luxury hotel-apartment in town. Laura didn’t want to even _guess_ how much it had cost, but Carmilla had assured her it was all taken care of. The suite itself consisted of two spacious bedrooms connected to a main living area and furnished bath. There was an open bar, a dining table, a kitchenette, a TV, and several couches surrounding an open fireplace. It was probably nicer than her apartment back in Silas, though she certainly wasn’t going to tell that to her aunt. The windows in the room commanded an impressive view of the city as their rooms were on the topmost floor of the building.    

Laura was somewhat relieved and disappointed that Carmilla would be sleeping in a separate bedroom. She had to admit that the thought of seeing Carmilla in a more intimate setting was very appealing. Still, it was a thoughtful consideration on Carmilla’s part since Laura was still uncertain about where things stood between them. This was obviously Carmilla’s way of giving Laura some peace of mind about any nefarious intentions she may have been harboring.

(Not that Laura hadn’t been harboring her own.)

They knew they liked each other. They knew they were hot for each other. They were here because they wanted to explore these feelings together. But Laura was determined to take things slowly, and Carmilla seemed content to let her steer the ship.

And so they began by exploring London together, walking arm in arm wherever they went. They had three days to get their fill of the place, and Laura wasn’t going to waste a minute of it.

The very first thing Laura insisted on doing was going to St. Paul’s Cathedral. It was a common enough attraction for tourists visiting London, but for Laura, it was almost a pilgrimage. She’d lost count of the number of times she had seen Mary Poppins with her parents as a child; certainly enough to wear out their VHS tape, and later, their special edition DVDs. Standing on the steps looking up at the old cathedral had almost made her emotional. She couldn’t feed the birds, but she was still utterly charmed when Carmilla sung the words in her ear.   

They went everywhere, or as close to everywhere as Laura could manage in a limited time frame. She dragged Carmilla to various museums with the ferocity of an over-eager tourist. Carmilla humored her evident need to consume as much of everything as possible, and they spent several hours wandering the British Museum in spite of Laura’s aching feet. Carmilla spoke extensively about the history of some of the pieces there, and Laura could only watch her, completely mesmerized. They argued over the controversies surrounding the Elgin Marbles, which only added fire to their flirtation. Arguing with Carmilla wasn’t like arguing with Danny: their heated exchanges were practically a kind of foreplay. Laura didn’t know how it was possible to be so infuriated and simultaneously turned on by the same person.  

But their days were full of laughter and discovery in addition to all the flirtatious bickering. Everything was new yet wonderfully familiar, given that London had shaped so many stories from Laura’s childhood. Her books had taken her everywhere from Baker Street to an enchanted platform at King’s Cross Station, and now here she was, standing in a city as beautiful and diverse as it was in fiction.

They walked along the side of the Thames between the Lambeth and Tower Bridges. They posed for photos near Westminster Abbey in spite of Carmilla’s mild objections. They drank mulled wine at the Borough Market after visiting Shakespeare’s Globe, where Laura had rattled off about an episode of Doctor Who that was filmed there a few seasons back. Carmilla just watched her, not at all annoyed that Laura chose to comment on the building’s significance in relation to some nerdy pop-culture phenomenon instead of the importance of Shakespeare’s works. They dined at some of the finest restaurants the city had to offer, and Laura was grateful that Carmilla’s recommendations included a wide variety of different cuisines.

Laura was also intrigued to discover that Carmilla spoke multiplelanguages. Their daily excursions had provided them with opportunities to converse with random tourists and other foreigners. She watched with interest as Carmilla spoke with a family in seemingly fluent Mandarin. She had no idea why she found it so hot. There wasn’t much Carmilla did that wasn’t attractive.

“How many languages do you actually speak?” she’d asked Carmilla afterwards.

“Do you mean fluently, or just well enough to get into trouble?” Carmilla had smirked.

Those were the moments that made Laura’s stomach flip in a rather delightful manner. She wondered if Carmilla could speak Italian as well…

For educational purposes, of course.     

Laura also begged and pleaded to go ice skating at Hampton Court one evening. It had been a very spur-of-the-moment decision that Carmilla had wildly protested. But Laura was learning that Carmilla could be persuaded to do _anything_ that Laura wanted with a little extra flirting and the expert use of Laura’s most pleading, wide-eyed look. It was safe to say it had been a wise decision once they eventually stepped out onto the ice. Laura was actually a very graceful skater, and Carmilla (very surprisingly) was not. Laura couldn’t help but laugh when Carmilla tried to steady herself on the ice. She looked like a cat trying to find its footing on a newly polished kitchen floor.

But it happily allowed Laura the opportunity to hold Carmilla as they spun together under the lights. Carmilla would even tickle her occasionally when Laura made a smug remark about her skating abilities. Their laughter was contagious, and there was no denying that Laura was having the time of her life.

All in all, it was a pretty decent beginning to a romance they were starting to write together.

\----

“So this is the oldest pub in England?”

“It’s certainly _claims_ to be the oldest, if nothing else.”

Laura looked up at the dark, wooden rafters. “It’s incredible. I can’t believe it’s over 900 years old.”

They were sitting at a table at the Royal Standard of England, one of the more historic dining establishments they’d visited over the past few days. It was just outside of London, requiring a short drive to get there, but Laura had enjoyed the passing scenery as well as the company of her beautiful traveling companion.

The place was full, but not uncomfortably so, and she found it perfectly charming. A dog was curled up near the feet of the couple beside them, and she couldn’t help but smile at how adorable it was.

“They have excellent ales if you’re interested,” Carmilla offered. “Their ciders are also quite good.”

Laura thoughtfully nibbled on her lip as she scanned the menu. “Food recommendations?”

“I’d start with the oysters and consider getting the lamb. Rare is usually better.”

Laura made a face at her. “Oysters?”

Carmilla smirked. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had an oyster before, cupcake. There’s really no excuse for that.”

“Hey, I can handle my seafood just fine, but there are limits to what I’m willing to put in my mouth.” Carmilla raised an eyebrow right at the very moment Laura realized what she’d actually just said. “No!” she laughed. “Don’t even say it!”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, cutie.” But Carmilla’s smile was perfectly wicked, and Laura could only blush through her laughter.

After ordering their food and drinks from the bar (Carmilla somehow convinced Laura to get the oysters) they resumed their easy flirtatious banter that Laura not-so-secretly adored. There was something so freeing about their shameless interest in each other— the open acknowledgment of a mutual attraction. Laura didn’t need to temper her smile whenever Carmilla said something mildly suggestive to her. She also found it _very_ entertaining to play coy with Carmilla from time to time. Her game was limited, but she knew _just_ enough to make Carmilla pay close attention.

Her cider, for example, might have spilled _just_ a little after Laura took a long, thirsty drink of it. She casually licked a drop from her lip, and Carmilla unconsciously mimicked the action.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“When are you going to tell me something new and interesting about yourself?”

“Cupcake, you just discovered that I’m fond of 80’s pop music; what more could you possibly need to know?”

Laura sighed. “Come on, Carm... I thought we were planning on opening up a little. Isn’t that why we’re here in the first place? To figure out whether or not we can trust each other?”

Carmilla placed her elbows on the table while absently running her fingers together. “Haven't you broken enough of my defenses already?”

“If ‘breaking your defences’ means that I know you like the Thompson Twins, then I’m only just beginning to scratch the surface.”   

Carmilla gave her a playful grin before she leaned back in her chair. “Alright, I’ll tell you what: you can ask me three questions, but you _only_ get three. Does that sound fair?”

Laura was mildly intrigued by this response. “You’ll answer any question I ask you?”

“I will honestly answer any question you ask me. Just be _very_ sure it’s something you want to know.”

Laura carefully considered her words. There was _so much_ she desperately wanted to know about her. An open invitation to ask Carmilla anything was both exciting and incredibly daunting all at once.

“Okay, then.” Laura paused for a moment. “What do you really do for a living?”

Carmilla smirked. “What do you _think_ I do for a living?”

“I don’t know. I guess I assumed you were a hired assassin or something.”

Carmilla couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “I hate to disappoint you, sweetheart, but I don’t really have an occupation at the moment. I’ve been independently wealthy for years.”

“Really...” Laura deadpanned. “I never would have guessed. You’ve always struck me as the ‘thrifty’ type.”

“Hey...I make no apologies about appreciating some of the _finer_ things in life.” She winked at Laura, causing Laura to blush again. It was ridiculous how easily Carmilla could make her do that. “Besides,” she continued, “I’ve acquired enough wealth to last me at least seven lifetimes.”  

“You’ve _acquired_ enough wealth?” Laura asked her incredulously. “That’s— hang on just a minute: how old are you anyway?”

“I’m 335, give or take a year, though I _think_ I can still pass for 18.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “That’s hilarious, Carm. And also kind of insane. I think by the time I turned 18, I’d saved enough money for the annotated Sherlock Holmes collection.”

Carmilla shrugged. “I had a head start. I came from a wealthy family. A few wise investments and some shrewd business deals helped to take care of the rest for me.”

Laura took a drink of her cider. “Fine. Then dinner’s on you.”

Carmilla grinned. “Of course it is, cupcake. Have you thought of a third question?”

“Hey! What do you mean? I only asked one!”

“Actually, you asked me two.”

“That shouldn’t have counted!”

“Tsk tsk, cutie. Changing the rules so late in the game?”

Laura narrowed her eyes in frustration. She was trying to stop herself from smiling. “Fine. But don’t think I’m letting you off so easily the next time we play this game.”

Carmilla’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “The _next_ time? You really think you’re going to learn all of my secrets?”

Laura feigned innocence. “I have my ways. You’re not the only one with a talent for persuasion.”

They both couldn’t help but smirk at that. It was so stupidly obvious how much they wanted each other. But Laura was happy to savor the tension between them, letting the slow burn gradually continue to build.

“One more question,” Carmilla said as she took a sip of her drink.

Laura’s expression suddenly turned thoughtful. She studied Carmilla for a quiet moment.

There _was_ a question in Laura’s mind: one that probably wasn’t as significant or meaningful as others she could ask. Carmilla was giving her an opportunity to play the journalist, and it would be stupid to waste it chasing after answers to essentially pointless questions. And yet, as Laura stared into the eyes of the girl in front of her, she couldn’t help but keep coming back to it. Maybe it was because it was the last question Carmilla would have expected her to ask.

“You said...” Laura began, then she hesitated for a moment. Talking was a lot harder than she thought it would be. “You said that you felt something the night that we first met... That I sort of made an impression on you. Or something.”

Carmilla was silent, yet listening very attentively. Laura traced the wood grain on the table. She looked up at Carmilla, and her gaze was soft and uncertain. “When was the moment you felt it?”

Carmilla _was_ fairly surprised by the question. Laura was getting good at surprising her. She wondered, idly, what had prompted her to ask it. Validation, perhaps? A sense of closure? Knowing Laura, it was probably motivated by something infinitely more complex— like the intrinsic _need_ to understand the mind and motivations of the girl sitting across from her. It was so hard for Laura to contextualize her feelings when Carmilla inspired so many conflicting ones. When had her fear become fascination? Or had they always been one and the same?

There was a curious look in Carmilla’s eyes that hadn’t been there before: a kind of searching, unguarded stare that made Laura’s skin feel quite warm. A smile touched the corner of Carmilla’s lips as she briefly looked down at her hands. Then, very quietly, she looked up and said, “The moment I held you in my arms.”

Laura inhaled, allowing the weight of Carmilla’s answer to fully, and firmly, sink in. Memories of that night came rushing back to her mind along with the flood of emotions that accompanied them. She remembered her fear. She remembered panicking. But she also remembered Carmilla’s hands: how they’d gently held her, offering quiet assurance when Laura was convinced she was going to die.

“It had been a rough night,” said Carmilla lightly, “and I was being careless. I wasn’t really expecting to find myself in possession of a tiny, beautiful hostage.” Carmilla gave Laura a knowing grin, and Laura blushed a little. She wondered if she should be more disturbed by this discussion. It seemed to be having the opposite effect on her.

“I remember carrying you through the cellars,” Carmilla continued. “How tightly your arms were clinging to me. I could practically _feel_ your heartbeat that night. I could still feel it long after I’d left.”

Laura swallowed. Her heart, coincidentally, was beating pretty heavily right now. She dared to look Carmilla straight in the eye. “Do you think you could have killed me that night?”  

Carmilla stared back at her. Her gaze felt intense; more intense than it usually was between them. She lifted her glass to take a sip of her drink. “Sorry, cupcake. That’s _four_ questions.”

Laura sighed. “Ah yes... the evasive answer. You’ve got that down to a science.”

“Hey, don’t blame me for wasting your questions on generally mundane topics.”

“There’s nothing mundane about you, Carm,” said Laura without really thinking about it. When she noticed the smirk that had formed on Carmilla’s lips, she immediately started to backtrack. “I mean… you’re you. And I’ve never known anyone quite like you before.”

“Like me?”

“Well,” Laura said as she fidgeted with her hands, “You _do_ kind of stand out in a crowd.”

They smiled at each other. Laura’s heart felt curiously lighter for it. She had to look away before she embarrassed herself again with more awkwardly-worded compliments and excessive blushing.  

“That’s the first time something like that has ever happened to me, you know.”

Laura looked up. “The first… what?”

Carmilla shrugged as she stared into her glass. She looked almost embarrassed, and it was captivating. “It was the first time anyone’s ever gotten under my skin before I even had the chance to learn their name. It was a little surprising, and I’m not easily surprised.” She looked up at Laura. “I think you had me right from the beginning.”

Laura said nothing. She was far too mesmerized by Carmilla’s shy expression. Someone brought the plate of oysters to their table, but neither girl was paying much attention to them.

Laura ran her teeth over her lip before she casually reached for her drink. It was another quiet moment, much like their night of stars, where nothing else existed except the two of them.  

“Here’s to firsts,” Laura smiled as she lifted her glass to Carmilla.

“Here’s to firsts,” Carmilla replied as they clinked their glasses together.

They both drank to the simple toast, their eyes never leaving each other. It was turning out to be a night of firsts indeed.

And the oysters tasted delicious.

\----

Yet in all of the excitement Laura had encountered over their last three days in London, it seemed that her careful study of Carmilla was raising far more questions than answers. The forced intimacy of living and traveling together had provided her with plenty of opportunities to closely observe her enigmatic companion and all of her strange idiosyncrasies.      

She’d learned, for example, that Carmilla had a seemingly endless supply of energy. After their first day spent wandering all over the city together, it was only natural they would both be exhausted. But Carmilla had grown more anxious and alert the closer they got to sundown, and when they’d returned to their hotel room that night, she’d stated that she was going to be going out again.

“I’ve set up a meeting with one of my old associates. Hopefully it shouldn’t take too long. There’s food and drinks in the fridge if you get hungry and pay-per-view cable if you get bored.” She’d grabbed a small satchel out of her suitcase before giving Laura a playful grin. “I’ll say goodnight, cutie. Please don’t wait up for me. We’ve got a full day ahead of us tomorrow.”

It wasn’t exactly what Laura had wanted to hear— not that Laura was _expecting_ anything. They were sleeping in separate bedrooms, after all, so why would it matter if Carmilla was leaving? Carmilla had said this was a business trip of sorts (though Laura remained skeptical about what that meant), and she was obviously trying to sort through her affairs without it affecting their travel plans. Still, it _had_ been their first night together, so a _little_ romantic tension would have been appreciated. But Laura was too exhausted to ask her any questions, and she doubted Carmilla would have answered them anyway.

This became their nightly routine, and Laura wasn’t sure how to feel about it. They’d get back to their room after a full day of sightseeing, then Carmilla would leave with a brief “goodnight.”

And that was the other thing: when did Carmilla sleep? How late did she stay out every night? It was impossible to tell when she got back to their rooms because Carmilla was freakishly quiet about it. But she was always up before Laura every morning, and she never showed any signs of fatigue. She’d say something flirtatious that would make Laura smile, then they’d head out for another day of sightseeing.

Her eating habits were also a little peculiar, though Laura had picked up on that over a month ago. Carmilla, to put it mildly, was an unrepentant carnivore, but she had a bit of a sweet tooth as well. Her love of fine dining was patently evident, yet the portions she ate were generally small. Sometimes she didn’t seem inclined to eat anything, yet she was always happy to indulge Laura’s appetite whenever Laura was feeling hungry.  

In truth, Carmilla was as much of an alluring mystery as she was from the very beginning. She was the perfect combination of wonderful and infuriating, and Laura found both sides equally attractive. But there was also a strange undercurrent of restlessness Laura could sense in her companion from time to time. It wasn’t always noticeable, as Carmilla was so attentive, but Laura could tell that she was distracted.

And Laura was admittedly very distracted herself, but for a whole hectic mess of different reasons. The last three days had been nothing short of incredible, and truthfully, that was part of the problem.

Laura liked her. She really, _really_ liked her, and it was scary how fast this was happening. Her vow to keep things semi-platonic between them was also failing spectacularly. But she genuinely needed to give herself time to examine the weight of these feelings before falling into bed with a gorgeous creature who honestly could have had her whenever she’d felt like it.

Laura was now in bed, wide awake, staring absently up at the ceiling. It was 2:00 in the morning, and as exhausted as she was, she couldn’t get back to sleep. Her mind was far too distracted by the thoughts spinning frantically around in her head, and a solid hour of tossing and turning wasn’t helping her to sort through any of them.

She sighed heavily. This wouldn’t do at all. She should _not_ be having these feelings. They had only been together for three freaking days, yet here she was: disgustingly twitterpated. Maybe she was just caught up in the romance of seeing a beautiful city with a beautiful girl, or maybe her insomnia was just an ill-effect from eating a whole plateful of oysters. Whatever the case, Laura decided she desperately needed some water. Carmilla had also stocked the room with chocolate biscuits, so maybe a late-night snack would help to distract her.

Laura slipped out from under her covers and sluggishly headed for the door. She turned the handle and quietly pulled it open before stopping dead center in the doorway.

Carmilla was sitting on one of the sofas with a modest stack of books on every side of her. She was quietly writing in a spiral-bound notebook as her fingers skimmed the text lying in front of her. She was hunched over the coffee table beneath the light of a lamp, her hair up and loosely tied at the back. She was wearing a very fitted black top with a grey pair of shorts that were scandalously tight.

Laura swallowed.

So this was a first: finding Carmilla _here_ and presumably dressed in her sleepwear. Or maybe this was just what she wore to be comfortable. Maybe Carmilla didn’t sleep in anything at all.

She swallowed again as Carmilla half-glanced up at Laura without actually looking at her.

“Thirsty?” she asked.

“Thirst— I’m sorry... what?”

“Did you need a glass of water?” Carmilla smirked.

Laura exhaled. _Right...that kind of thirst._ “Um, yeah... How could you guess?”

“You’ve been tossing and turning for a while now, cutie. Either you needed to hit the restroom or your throat was dry. ”

“Oh,” said Laura with a hint of embarrassment. “Sorry. I didn’t know you could hear me.”

“My hearing is surprisingly very acute. Please don’t worry. You can make as much noise as you’d like.”

She continued writing as Laura quietly stared at her, unsure of what to make of this new development. They’d never been together in so intimate a setting before, not counting the night they’d made out in the solarium. Laura breathed in as she headed to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. She was trying her best to appear calm and collected when her heart was suggesting otherwise. “So when did you get back? I didn’t know you were even here.”

“I’ve been back for about an hour or so.”

“Isn’t it kind of late?” said Laura, opening her bottle.

“Technically, it's actually pretty early.”

Laura chuckled. “I should have guessed you were a night owl. How much sleep do you usually get at night?”

Carmilla reached for a book on the table. “I stopped sleeping years ago.”

Laura found the comment confusing. It was also a little troubling, come to think of it. “Bad dreams?”

Carmilla’s pen eventually stopped moving. Her gaze remained fixed on the notepad. “Sometimes the only way to keep yourself sane is to stop yourself from dreaming. The good ones never last, and the bad ones never leave. Some days you just get tired of waking up.”

Laura remained silent as she studied her companion. There was something so careworn in the slope of Carmilla’s profile. Laura was vaguely aware that there were horrors in her past, but they weren’t things she could learn by playing a game of twenty questions.

Perhaps that was one of the more intriguing things she'd discovered after spending so much time with Carmilla: she had the sculpted beauty of a Grecian statue and the the dark composition of a Grecian tragedy.

Laura quietly hovered near the couch until Carmilla eventually looked up at her. Something in her expression suddenly shifted as she slowly took in Laura’s appearance.

Laura froze. She hadn’t given much thought to her clothing (or lack thereof) until that moment.

Well. _Okay_. That was probably a lie. Laura had _carefully_ selected this outfit several days ago.

And sure, while she usually favored comfort over fashion, there was nothing wrong with making a small exception every now and then. Especially when she was faced with the prospect of sharing a room with a very attractive, _very_ temptable companion. So if Carmilla happened to catch her in some tiny black shorts and a rather form-fitting tank top that inadvertently exposed some of her toned abdominal muscles…

Well...

That could just be coincidence.  

But Carmilla had noticed. She had _definitely_ noticed. And judging by her expression, she liked what she saw. Laura suddenly realized how cold it was in the room, and she awkwardly folded her arms in front of her chest.

“So…” she said nervously, “What are you working on?”

Carmilla ran a finger over her lips. “I _was_ reading about religious rites in Mesopotamia, but suddenly I’m finding myself very distracted.”

Laura laughed. “Scoot over,” she said, and Carmilla graciously complied. She moved some of the books from the couch onto the coffee table so that Laura could sit down beside her. Laura tried to keep a “safe” space between them as she tucked her legs beneath her to get them warm. “So this is what you do at 2:00 in the morning?”

“Amongst other things,” Carmilla grinned.

Laura smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever met _anyone_ who finds religious rites in Mesopotamia all that exciting.”

Carmilla shrugged. “There’s a lot of interesting folklore if one felt so inclined to dig deep enough.”

Laura leaned over to look at her notes. “What language is this you’re writing in?”

“This is Akkadian,” Carmilla pointed at the page. “And these other characters are Sumerian.”  

Laura looked up at her. “You can read and write Sumerian?”

“I told you I was fond of learning languages.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t say anything about learning _dead_ languages...”

“Well how else was I supposed to read Gilgamesh?”

Laura slowly shook her head. “Is there seriously anything you can’t do?”

“I think we’ve already established that I’m terrible at ice-skating.”  

Laura laughed. “You really are.”

They both exchanged a playful smile, and Laura was starting to feel bold again. She casually leaned over to grab a book off the table, perfectly aware that she was exposing a lot of skin. The book she’d grabbed was an ancient looking tome of an unknown date and origin, and she was very careful how she handled the binding since the spine was cracked down the middle. She gave Carmilla a saucy look before she began to turn the pages. Carmilla raised an eyebrow as they silently played their game of _Whose Thoughts Are the Most Inappropriate?_

When Laura looked down at the pages, however, a frown slowly formed on her face. There were faded illustrations interspersed with the characters, and their subject matter was strikingly gruesome. Faceless figures were tearing a woman apart… men were dragging knives along their skin… a man in yellow robes was walking through fields of bone, carrying a sword in his hand stained with blood.

“What _is_ this?” she asked, simultaneously mesmerized and disturbed by all of the drawings.

“They’re stories taken from the Book of Lives: one of the earliest Sumerian texts.” Carmilla leaned closer and pointed to a drawing. “These are the Hasturmenchen. They’re performing a human sacrifice to Hastur: the Shepherd Who Walks in Barren Fields.”

Laura looked unsettled. “Were these stories fact or fiction?”

Carmilla quietly chuckled. “A little of both. They’re a cult dating back to the earliest civilization; a group of monks who branded their skin with scars of devotion. They worshipped Hastur, a god that was said to have reigned in blood and madness. Some cultures named him the great 'Yellow King’ since his robes were spun from the sun.”

Laura nodded. “So this is Hastur?”

“Not exactly” Carmilla replied. “Hastur was said to have been destroyed thousands of years ago. This is his avatar: the Stranger.”

Laura looked up at her. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means he’s an incarnation of Hastur’s spirit; a mortal gifted with otherworldly powers to speak in the name of their king. You’re familiar with the Mouth of Sauron from 'The Lord of the Rings,' right?” Laura slowly nodded. “It’s sort of a similar principle— the Stranger is the mouthpiece of Hastur, but made out of flesh and bone.”

Laura studied the simplistic drawings. “Why is he carrying a sword?”

“That’s the Sword of Hastur: the Blade to Consume His Enemies. Supposedly, it was forged with Hastur’s blood.”

Laura bit her lip. “And these guys over here?”

“Those are Hastur's High Priests. It's said every year they would gather the faithful to a secret temple buried beneath the ocean. The priests would offer a virgin sacrifice upon the altar to their god by pulling a helpless young girl apart before burning her flesh for consumption.”

Laura delicately closed the book. “Well. That’s some lighthearted reading.”

“Would you like me to read you a more comforting story, cupcake?”

“Maybe,” said Laura, returning the book to the pile. “Now I know why you never get any sleep.”

Carmilla glanced down at her notes again. She seemed to be lost in thought. “You know, I’m not sure if I remember any stories that you would find all that comforting. I stopped believing in stories with happy endings a very, _very_ long time ago.” She smiled to herself. “It’s kind of ironic now that I really think about it. Reading was one of the few escapes I had since I was old enough to read a book. It took me out of my misery; it even took me out of the pain. Words were something I could get lost in. It didn’t really matter how the story ended; all that mattered was that it wasn’t mine.”  

Laura felt her chest beginning to tighten. It always did whenever Carmilla opened up like this. She took a deep breath as she struggled to form her question: “Is that why you never talk about your childhood?”

Carmilla gave a humorless laugh. “What do you want to know?”

“It’s just…” Laura began, unsure if this was too forward, “you don’t say very much about your family.”

Carmilla didn’t immediately respond. She looked torn between annoyance and resignation. “I don’t talk about my family because they aren’t a part of my life anymore, and they haven’t been for quite some time. I have a handful of siblings that are still milling around, and I can tolerate—at best—one or two of them. None of them are actually blood relations to me because _that_ family was killed a long time ago. I was raised by a woman who thought that affection was synonymous with violent cruelty, and I decided that purging every trace of her from my life was the only way I would ever find any peace. Does that answer your question?”

Laura felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. The pain was visible on her face.  “What—” she stammered, “what did she do to you?”

Carmilla just stared at the wall. “She did enough,” said Carmilla coldly. “And…  I’m sorry. Do you mind? I really can’t talk about this right now, cupcake. It’s too early in the morning for this discussion.”

Laura gently took Carmilla’s hand, prompting Carmilla to look back at her. She could feel Carmilla’s warmth as their hands pressed together, and Laura could never get tired of it. “You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered softly, “but I think you need to know that whatever might have happened to you in your past, it doesn’t define who you are.”

Carmilla looked closely at Laura for a moment. “Who do you think I am?”

Laura looked down at both of their hands. She started tracing Carmilla’s palm with her fingertips. “I think you’re a wanderer because it’s easier than finding a home again. I think you see beauty in everything around you because you’ve also known pain and suffering. I think you’re a romantic that _desperately_ tries to hide that under layers of brooding and sarcasm, but you still let me see it despite your better judgement.” Laura looked at her. “I think that you’re beautiful.”

Carmilla seemed momentarily at a loss for words. It wasn’t often that Laura could render her speechless. Laura gave her a small, encouraging smile that Carmilla slowly returned.

“Have I ever told you how much I like you, cupcake?”

Laura leaned her head on the sofa. “Tell me again when it’s not two in the morning and I’m running on more than an hour of sleep.”

Carmilla chuckled. “You should get back to bed. We’re heading to Brighton tomorrow morning.”

Laura squinted. “What’s in Brighton?”

“A little business mixed with lots of pleasure.”

Laura smiled. “That sounds exciting. Are _you_ planning on getting any sleep?”

Carmilla sighed. “I’m going to do some more reading. I’m sure I’ll eventually wear myself out.”

“Need any help?” asked Laura quietly, completely oblivious to how that sounded. But she caught herself a second too late as Carmilla raised her eyebrows in mild shock. “I mean,” Laura began, “I can help you take notes if you... wanted some company right now.” She held her breath, just waiting for Carmilla to embarrass her with an overtly sexual response.

But there wasn’t a trace of humor in Carmilla’s stare, nor did she bother to respond to Laura’s rambling. Instead, she was focusing on Laura’s close proximity to her and just how little Laura was wearing. Her gaze silently traced the contours of Laura’s body, stopping at every curve with fixed intensity. She looked like an animal sizing up its prey, trying to find the right place to sink her teeth in her.

By all that was sacred and holy, Laura had no effing clue what to do. She had seen that look in Carmilla’s eyes before, but she was never this close, nor this “exposed” to her. There wasn't any guile or pretense in the way Carmilla hungrily (and blatantly) drank her in, and Laura could feel her skin getting hotter with every passing second. She wasn't exactly a stranger to being viewed as an object of lust, however conceited that may have sounded. She was a reasonably attractive girl with a pretty impressive figure: getting attention from interested parties wasn't difficult. She had also survived a three-month relationship with a girl in possession of a healthy sex drive, but Carmilla...

Holy hell.

Carmilla looked like she wanted to feast on every last inch of her.  

Laura’s heart was beating out of her chest as her gaze wandered down to Carmilla’s lips. They looked just as soft and exquisite as she’d remembered them, but Laura wanted to taste them just to be sure. It was a terrible idea that wasn’t terrible at all, but it probably _would_ be in the long run. She still felt exhausted no matter _what_ her hormones were telling her and honestly, was she even ready to start this now? No, she wasn’t ready— but of course she was ready. Carmilla was a ride at Disneyland. It didn’t matter how tired you felt that day... you still wanted to get on the damn ride.  

“You’d better go back to bed,” Carmilla muttered. It felt more like a warning than a suggestion.

Laura swallowed. Should she go back to bed? Or should she pin Carmilla to the floor and have her way with her?

“Right,” said Laura a little nervously as she slowly leaned back on the couch. Carmilla watched her get to her feet with the eyes of a hungry predator. “So… I’m just going to say goodnight and… um… say goodnight again.” Laura was walking back to her room and stumbled blindly into the coffee table. “Whoops! Sorry. I hope I didn’t… Anyway… so yeah… Have a good night, Carm.” She smiled awkwardly before quickly turning around and heading straight for her bedroom.

Once she was inside with the door pressed behind her, Laura sucked in a trembling breath.

Good. This was good. She’d made it to 72 hours.

A cold shower would be a great way to celebrate.  

\------

Brighton was a much more laid-back affair than their tour of London had been. The day was comprised of trips to different shops and a visit to the aquarium at Laura’s insistence. She’d always had a healthy love of the sea from growing up in Newfoundland, and after their trip to the Sea Life Centre, they headed straight for the pier.

It was a beautiful day— cold but invigorating. The crowds were less intense than they were in London. They wandered aimlessly without a destination in mind, preferring to get lost in each other.

Carmilla bought Laura the most glorious-looking cupcake at a famous bakery in town. It was a chocolate monstrosity covered in bright blue frosting with an edible rose on top. She laughed as Laura messily devoured it, then told her she was absolutely ridiculous. Laura retaliated by suggestively licking the frosting off of each of her fingertips. It was impossible for them not to tease each other when they both so clearly enjoyed it, and all of their sight-seeing was nicely enriched by the copious amounts of flirting.

Laura found herself watching Carmilla more than any of the sights surrounding them. It may have been the increased amount of time they’d been spending together, but she thought Carmilla had never looked more beautiful. Her eyes were shining whenever she gave Laura that dazzling smile of hers, and every time their hands pressed together, Laura felt like she was suddenly stirring to life again. She’d never felt this way before. Not with her friends. Not with Danny. Not with anyone. Every feeling was finely encased in light, and its warmth was as bright as the sun.

By early evening, they’d managed to find their way over to the East Arm of the Marina. The wind was gloriously, bitterly cold as they walked side-by-side along the breakwater. Several fishermen were still standing out along the lower walkway, and a few nodded kindly to them both in passing as they hauled in their catch for the day.

Laura was bundled in her white winter coat with her requisite blue hat and scarf, talking and laughing as the waves crashed loudly against the outer barrier.

“...So we were standing outside and it was like 1:00 in the morning— I can’t even remember anymore. My dad would have _killed_ me if he’d known we were out that late, so it was a miracle I was spending the night at Rachel’s.”

“I thought that sleepovers spent at your friend’s were against the Hollis house rules?”

Laura grinned. “Winter formal was one of the few exceptions, but only because dad was out of town that weekend. I convinced him there was a limit to the amount of mischief I could get up to since we were all just dorky little sophomores. He obviously didn’t believe me, but I was determined to go to the dance, so I whined and whined until he gave in. And he _was_ being pretty ridiculous about it because we were literally the lamest group ever. Matt’s _dad_ was picking us up, for heaven’s sake. The most scandalous thing we’d done all night was split a few wine coolers from Justin’s house.”

Carmilla chuckled. “Scandalous indeed. You were the poster child for juvenile delinquency.”

“I know, right? It’s a wonder I made it to college without landing myself in jail.”

“So, please continue.”

“Oh... where was I? So we’d just left the diner, and we were standing around waiting for our ride. I told Matt that I’d had a great night with him and that’s when he went in for the kiss. It was actually really sweet. He was a pretty decent kisser, not that I’d had a lot of experience at the time. Justin and Rachel caught us from the doorway and they would _not_ shut up about it. The teasing was incessant. They were even worse when Matt’s dad pulled up to drive us back to Rachel’s place. I couldn’t stop blushing the entire ride there because of their dumb, suggestive comments.”

Carmilla was clearly amused by her story. “And how was Casanova handling this?”

“Matt? I can’t remember. I think he was just disappointed that his _dad_ was driving us home and there wouldn’t be any more kissing.”

“A tragedy indeed,” Carmilla lamented. “A beautiful girl _always_ deserves to be kissed.”

Laura gave Carmilla a wicked smirk. “I didn’t say that _I_ wasn’t getting any more kissing that night.”

Carmilla arched an eyebrow at Laura, who bit her lip a bit coyly. “Well… it was our first group dance together, and Rachel and I were feeling kind of giddy. We said goodnight to our dates on the porch, then we ran downstairs to her room where we spent the next few hours laughing about everything and cuddling up in her bed. She started teasing me about the kiss again, and I was feeling bold enough to tease back. _‘Like you’re some kissing expert’_ I’d said. And that’s when she leaned down to _prove_ it to me.”

Carmilla whistled very appreciatively. “Wow. Hot damn, cupcake.”

“Yeah... I know. And she _continued_ to prove it to me for the next forty-five minutes, if you can believe it.”

Carmilla smiled as she shook her head. “Well, straight or not, the girl had good taste.”

“At least until senior year,” Laura sighed. “That’s when she remembered that ‘straight’ girls don’t get naked with their friends.”

“Hmmm. I don’t really know about that. The ones I’ve met sure seemed to like it.”

“We should write a book together: _‘101 Reasons Why Straight Girls Like to Get Naked with You.’”_

They started laughing.

“So what about you?” said Laura, turning around so she was walking backwards and facing Carmilla. “Have you left a trail of broken hearts behind you, or has someone ever managed to steal yours?”

Carmilla stiffened a little at the question, but she shrugged her shoulders and continued walking. “I may have broken a few hearts in my time.”

“Really. So what number does that make me?”

Carmilla stopped and stared at her. “Are you suggesting I've broken your heart, cutie?”

“If you haven't broken it yet, then you're going to eventually. I've always had you pegged as a heartbreaker,” Laura smirked.

Carmilla walked very slowly up to Laura. Laura could barely stop herself from grinning. She watched, expectantly, as Carmilla stopped in front of her, forcing Laura to lean up just a bit.

“You’re a lot of things, cupcake,” Carmilla whispered softly, “but a number was never one of them.” She smiled a little before she started walking again, leaving Laura just standing there, utterly flummoxed.

 _Yep,_ Laura thought. _Definitely a heartbreaker._

But Laura wasn’t complaining.

Instead, she turned and raced to catch up with her before Carmilla got too far ahead.

They ended up at a pub near the water for drinks and dinner that night. It was an older crowd with a sprinkling of tourists mixed in with the local regulars. The music selection was a combination of Christmas favorites and some of the older classics. They could still hear it playing after they’d exited the building and stepped back out into the cold.

“He was _not_ flirting with me,” Laura insisted as she tucked her hands beneath her arms.

“You’re hopeless, cupcake. He was _blatantly_ flirting with you. I should know; I do it all the time.”

“Oh my gosh, Carm— he was just being polite.”

“‘Polite’ would be paying you a modest complement. _Flirting_ is telling you that your accent is “enchanting” and asking you fifty pointless questions about Canada.”

Laura huffed. “Well now you know what it feels like.”

“What ‘ _what’_ feels like?”

“Seeing you get hit on! We can’t go anywhere without _someone_ trying to flirt with you, and not one of them has ever been subtle about it!”

Carmilla gave Laura a playful smirk. “Why Laura... are you jealous?”

“No more than _you_ are,” Laura mumbled.

But they grinned at each other all the same.

A cold breeze suddenly blew in from the water, and Laura shivered a little. The wharf appeared to be empty since no one seemed inclined to stand there freezing in the dark.

“No stars tonight,” said Laura sadly as she looked up at the clouds covering the sky. She wondered if anyone ever saw the stars in England. It seemed to be perpetually overcast.

“I beg to differ,” Carmilla responded, looking rather pointedly at Laura. “The stars are there. You’re just not looking hard enough.”

“Oh? Would you care to show me?”

Carmilla didn’t say anything. She just stared at Laura, as if the stars were right there in front of her. Laura looked deeply into Carmilla’s eyes as well, searching for her favorite constellations.

Right at that moment, as if by faultless design, the soft strains of _“Unforgettable”_ began playing from somewhere inside the building. The familiar notes drifted out into the night before Nat King Cole’s silken refrain blended together with them. Carmilla looked slyly over at Laura before she reached down to take her hand. She began pulling Laura back towards the wharf where the lamplight was shining over the docks. Laura was a little confused at first, and then she couldn’t help her nervous laughter. Carmilla was bringing them very close together for the first unhurried steps of a simple waltz.

They slowly began to dance. Carmilla would occasionally twirl her, clearly delighted by Laura’s endless laughter. But whenever their eyes met, Laura’s laughter quieted, and she found herself pressing closer to Carmilla.

Time was almost standing still. The same couldn’t be said for Laura’s heart. The song carried them further and further away from everything else that existed beyond each other. They were lost to the music. They were lost to the warmth and feel of their bodies moving together. The chill in the air was suddenly gone as Carmilla’s hands pressed against Laura’s back.    

“What are you thinking?” said Carmilla softly.

Laura slid her hands behind Carmilla’s neck. “That you're pretty dangerous,” she lightly replied as her gaze traveled down to Carmilla’s lips.

Carmilla smirked. “You have _no_ idea. But don’t worry… I think you’re safe with me.”

Laura smiled as she gently shook her head. It was only safe to say that she was smitten. “I've been in danger ever since I saw you in those tight leather pants of yours.”

Carmilla laughed. “If I’d known how much you liked them, I’d have worn them a whole lot sooner.”

“You could be wearing _anything,_ Carm, and you’d still have me tripping over my feet.”

Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “What if I wasn’t wearing anything?”

“Why Carmilla... what a scandalous thing to say.”

Carmilla lightly shrugged her shoulders. “I could say something sweeter, if you’d like.”

“Could you? Like what?”

“Like I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the girl standing in front of me.”

Laura’s pulse was wildly racing. “I think you’d better be careful. Those are the kind of words that could make a girl want to kiss you very thoroughly.”

Carmilla tucked her lip behind her teeth. “Well, well... Now look who’s in danger.”

“I think we were always in danger, Carm,” said Laura as she moved a bit closer.

Carmilla was studying her mouth very intently. “Guess we’ll just have to face it together.”

Laura was dangerously close to fainting. “Is this the part where you ask me to run away with you?”

Carmilla’s features suddenly fell. Her movements came to a halt. Laura felt their connection instantly severed as Carmilla swiftly pulled away from her.

“Carm?” she said with fearful concern, her hands clinging loosely to Carmilla’s arms.

Carmilla was staring at her like she’d just seen a ghost. Her skin was even more pale than usual.

The music had shifted to a different song. A few laughing couples exited the pub. It seemed to snap Carmilla out of her thoughts as she took a step further away from Laura.

“We should be heading back,” Carmilla muttered. “It’s getting late, cupcake.”

Laura stepped forward. “Carm, what is it? What’s wrong? What did I do?”

“Nothing,” she said with a dismissive tone as she ran a hand through her hair. “Let’s just get back to the apartment so you can rest. We have an early day tomorrow”

Laura was trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. “Are you… are you going out tonight?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m meeting up with an associate. It’s why I dragged us here in the first place.” She pulled out her phone to call for a cab. “Trust me, you’ll want to get some rest. We have to catch an early ferry in Newhaven so we can get to France by midday.”

Laura didn’t know what to say. Her heart sank heavily in her chest. They were only seconds away from kissing each other. What on earth had just happened?

The cab ride back to their apartment on the beach was spent in awkward silence. Carmilla was staring quietly out of the window, and she refused to look over at Laura.

When they said a brief goodnight on their doorstep, Carmilla made it a point to keep her distance from her. Laura could only watch as Carmilla sank back into the night, and she was certain she wouldn’t return until after dawn.      

\-----

The light was warm. Laura could almost feel it as its soft glow stirred her from her sleep. A faint patch of sunlight had crept in through the window where the curtains were parted down the middle. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the sounds of boats and a few scattered seabirds near the shore. It felt too early, even if the clock insisted it was well-past 10:00 in the morning.

She closed her eyes with a heavy sigh before shifting slightly beneath the covers. The room was freezing, but her bed was pleasantly warm.

Strangely enough, it felt empty.

Laura opened her eyes and stared at the empty space beside her. Her hand was resting on cold cotton sheets that remained untouched during the night.

They were already in France. They’d taken the Newhaven ferry to Dieppe and onto Fécamp shortly afterwards. It had been a rainy though pleasant enough journey filled with beautiful sights and scenic drives. Carmilla, unfortunately, had remained somewhat distant throughout the majority of their travels. She was still just as charming and attentive as she’d always been, but now she was considerably more withdrawn. Laura tried not to be visibly upset about it, and she tried not to let it ruin their day. She was happy to be with Carmilla regardless of whether or not anything more was eventually going to happen between them.

There had been moments, of course, where it was impossible for Carmilla not to turn Laura into a blushing mess. Those were the moments that hurt the most, because all Laura wanted to do was kiss her. The day had given Laura plenty of opportunities to dust off her French with the locals, and Carmilla had teased her rather relentlessly about her “awful” French-Canadian accent. Laura insisted her French was perfect and was daring Carmilla to suggest otherwise.

“Perfection indeed,” Carmilla had said with a look that made Laura feel her heart stop.

Laura turned to lie flat on her back. She pressed her palms against her forehead.

Why was this all so stupidly complicated? Why were they still dancing around their feelings?

Maybe neither of them knew what they really wanted. Even Laura couldn’t define how she felt. There were certainties, yes, like the certainty that this had been one of the most incredible weeks of her life. She was also certain that Carmilla was going to kiss her that night they’d spent in Brighton. That was before something had randomly pulled them apart, causing Laura to doubt this all over again.

She turned to look at the pillow beside her. What if this was her fault? Maybe she’d pushed Carmilla too far, and Carmilla just needed some space again. Laura hated when she left every night and she hated herself for hating it. When in the hell had she become so clingy? She’d never been like this with anyone.

But something had definitely changed between them. There was an inevitability with Carmilla she couldn’t let go of. It was more than lust, though Laura had enough of that to power an entire third-world country. A dull ache lingered inside Laura’s chest that grew worse the longer they were apart. She could easily guess what that probably meant, but it didn’t make it any less frightening.

She had to get up. She had to see her. Carmilla was probably already awake. Maybe they could talk and try to sort things out before all of this tension inevitably killed her.

She slipped out of bed and headed towards the kitchen. They were staying in a small apartment. It was sparse but charming, and Laura was rather anxious to make use of the coffee machine as soon as possible.

When she got to the kitchen, she found a note on the table next to a beautiful parcel wrapped in silver paper. She stopped for a moment, squinting slightly at her name written in Carmilla’s beautiful handwriting on the letter. She picked it up while rubbing the back of her neck. Maybe Carmilla went out to get some breakfast. She unfolded the note and began to read. Her face gradually fell with every line.

_Laura,_

_I’m sorry I’m not there to greet you in person, but I didn’t want to wake you. I know you’re much more likely to forgive me after you’ve had a decent night’s sleep._

_I had to leave very early this morning on an unexpected trip. There’s nothing to worry about— I’ve already made arrangements for you to continue our tour of northern France. There’s a little village in Finistére that I think you’re going to love. Take some time getting to know the coastal paths. It’s one of my favorite places._

_I’ll likely be gone over the next few days. Hopefully I should be back in time for Christmas. But just in case, here’s my early gift to you to class up that wardrobe of yours._

_I hope you like it._

_Yours always,_

_-C_

Laura stared blankly at the letter in her hand. To say she was upset was an understatement.

Carmilla was gone.

Where?

And how?

And why didn’t she take Laura with her?

Her eyes suddenly fell on the box on the table, and she felt her stomach turning to lead. If Carmilla thought a gift would make this less painful, then she’d wildly underestimated Laura’s feelings. She picked up the package while trying to decide whether or not she should even open it. She wasn’t interested in books or jewelry or empty promises. Her heart wanted so much more than that.

She eventually gave in and decided to open it when her curiosity finally got the better of her. After tearing off the paper, she discovered a velvet box with a gold crest stamped in Italian. It looked expensive, which was a little disconcerting since her gifts for Carmilla weren’t all that remarkable. Laura exhaled as she carefully opened the box to examine the contents inside.

It was a diamond necklace cut with an assortment of aquamarines and sapphires: simple in design, yet beautifully elegant— a necklace that looked almost tailor made for her. There was nothing ostentatious or vulgar about it in spite of the wealth of its gemstones, and the chain was a beautiful 18 karat white gold that felt light and smooth in her hand.

But it wasn’t the flawless cut of the diamonds that caused Laura’s heart to race, nor was it the way each stone caught the sunlight filtering in through the window nearby.

It was the little cluster of gems that were set in the center of the necklace, each bearing the well-worn look of the stones from her tiny silver bracelet. She knew them well— they were the last few remnants of the gift her mother had given her— utterly worthless yet every bit as precious as as the diamonds and sapphires surrounding them. Little flecks of silver were wrapped underneath the polished stones, yet they were ingrained so beautifully with the rest of the necklace that nothing seemed out of place.   

Laura felt herself growing faint as she slowly sank down in a chair. Her hand reached up to cover her mouth as tears gathered in her eyes.

She had no words. There was no way to describe all that she felt in her heart. But one thought stood out more prominently than any other...

She was in love with Carmilla.   


	11. Immolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caution: This chapter contains extremely graphic imagery and a healthy variety of disturbing content. Reader discretion is highly advised, particularly if you have a weak stomach.
> 
> I was saving this one as an early Christmas present. My thanks to all of you who are reading. Feel free to comment, as I'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> Oh... and happy solstice, everyone. ;)

Mattie strode powerfully and purposefully down the hall of the Silas Administration Building. It was late in the evening, long past the normal hours of operation for faculty members and office staff. Only the hum of the overhead lights and computer monitors could be heard in the silence, cut very jarringly by the sharp click of stilettos striking against the laminate flooring. Her assistant was quietly struggling to keep pace with her, as Mattie’s stride was long. The girl flipped swiftly through the screens on her tablet as they walked towards the building’s restricted area.

“And what have you learned?” said Mattie coolly, swiping her badge through the card reader. The door’s locks clicked open, and she pushed into the room. The motion-sensored lights turned on, immediately signaling their presence.

“There were ten separate bookings to ten different locations, and each flight was scheduled to leave on Tuesday, December 15th. Karnstein made the purchases using three known aliases and seven we didn’t previously have on our records. An additional ticket for Laura Eileen Hollis was made with each of the bookings. Potential destinations included New York, Toronto, London, São Paulo, Madrid, Los Angeles, Moscow, Sydney, Rome, and the Virgin Islands.”

Mattie smirked as she approached the elevator and swiped her card again. It was a high-security lift that only Mattie had access to, and very few people on her staff were even aware of it.

At present, she didn’t know whether to be more annoyed or amused by her sister’s recent antics, so she settled for a happy combination of both since that seemed to be the appropriate response. Mircalla was clearly as much of a romantic as she was in her earlier years, and Mattie’s little gambit to use Hollis as a diversion had paid off rather nicely. “An expensive bit of misdirection,” Mattie mused. “Which flight were they actually on?”

The girl looked nervous. “We’re still waiting for confirmation from our contacts at Vienna International. But we’re absolutely certain that Sydney and Toronto are off the list of known locations, and we’re currently following leads at Guarulhos, John F. Kennedy, and Heathrow.”

Mattie sighed as she stood waiting for the elevator. Trust Mircalla to make things difficult. “So they’ve had _ample_ time to make another connection— or they’ve simply found alternative transport. You know, the last thing I wanted to do for the holidays is clean up somebody else’s mess. Tell Paolo the next time his team loses their mark, I’m going to _personally_ castrate him.”

Her assistant hesitated as the elevator _pinged_ and the doors quietly slid open. “We should have confirmation within the next three or four hours. I can have our best people on a plane by noon tomorrow to pick up Karnstein’s trail.”  

“No,” said Mattie as they both stepped inside. “All that would do is anger her, and I’m not interested in having her kill more of these idiots, especially after what she did to Paolo’s team.” She pressed a button, and the doors slid shut before the lift began to descend into the sub-basements. “We’ll leave the lovers to themselves for the moment. It won’t be the last we’ll see of them.”

Soft blue lights lit up the metal framework, casting the pair in a fluorescent glow. Her assistant calmly adjusted her glasses, though Mattie could tell that her heart was racing.

“I still want a mark on Laura Hollis’s apartment,” Mattie mildly continued. “Send a fresh team who have a _little_ more discretion and actually know the meaning of the word ‘ _covert_.’ I’d also recommend you find them a new surveillance room since the last one has been compromised… unless you’d like to mop up the mess Mircalla made of the last team we placed there.”

The girl typed the notes into her tablet as the elevator came to a stop. They exited the lift and stepped into a narrow hallway that was several stories below ground. The walls and floor were a sickly white hue that looked curiously unnerving under the lights. In the distance, they could hear a bloodcurdling scream, followed by the sound of an electric drill.

Mattie grinned as she walked towards the sound of the piercing, almost inhuman wailing. Her assistant kept a stoic facade, though Mattie could tell the girl was terrified. She visibly paled whenever Mattie insisted on bringing her down to the Work Room, but the girl was determined to maintain her professionalism, even in the face of brutal torture. It was one of many reasons why Mattie was fond of her, though she was loathe to admit that to anyone. Playing favorites with her staff was often troublesome when they tried to use that favoritism to their advantage.       

They turned the corner and started down a passage that led to a large metal door. The sounds of the drill were growing louder, yet they could also hear the beautiful refrain of the Flower Duet from _Lamké_. Mattie stopped just outside the door and waited for the drill to shut off again. Her assistant was still focused intently on her tablet, and Mattie could see that her hands were trembling.

“You can wait here,” said Mattie lightly. “This hopefully shouldn’t take long.” She gave her a smile as the drilling stopped, and the screams quieted down to a mewling whimper.

Mattie gave the door a few sharp knocks to effectively announce her arrival. A long, grotesque moan and a loud clanging sound were followed by the scrape of heavy footsteps.

The pair stood back as the door swung open, allowing music to fill the corridor. The massive shape of her “Tailor” stood before her, blocking whatever mess he’d been making behind him. The man was over seven feet tall, and there were several hundred pounds of him. His flesh was a sallow, unhealthy color that looked almost translucent in certain areas. There were jagged scars across his head that ran ragged along his scalp, and his eyes were the same uneven purple as the spidery veins beneath his skin. He was wearing a surgical mask with a black rubber apron and a large pair of black rubber gloves. From head to toe, he was completely covered in copious splatters of blood.

“Good evening, Mister Gibson,” said Mattie cheerfully. “Has our guest been given a proper welcome?”

He was incapable of giving her a verbal response, but his eyes flashed with a deranged kind of violence. He clenched his fists, and the blood on his gloves started dripping all over the floor. Mattie gave him a broad smile as her assistant subtly stepped back a bit.

“Excellent,” Mattie continued. “I’ll have Madeline send for you just as soon as we’re finished. If I’m in and out within the next fifteen minutes, you can keep whatever’s left in the room.”

His breathing frantically picked up in speed in a disturbing display of excitement. His eyes rolled dully over to Madeline, whose heart-rate was just on the verge of spiking. He slowly began to drag himself past them, favoring the leg that wasn’t paralyzed. Mattie turned to the open doorway, and she ran her tongue over her teeth.

“Don’t go far,” she said to the girl as she casually stepped into the chamber. Madeline closed the door behind her, leaving Mattie and her victim in Delibes’ flower fields.

Mattie reached over and carefully removed the needle from Mr. Gibson’s record player. It had a beautiful sound, though the antique was a tad eccentric, even for a vampire over a thousand years old. All that was heard in the ensuing silence was a wet, tortured rasp. Mattie carefully studied its source: a muscular gentleman strapped naked to a chair that was bolted to the center of the room. His wrists, ankles, and neck were shackled under thick, immovable restraints, and the ground beneath him was splattered with gore, affecting the look of a Jackson Pollock painting. The table beside him was littered with a variety of power tools and rusted surgical instruments. Everything appeared to be stained with blood, either fresh or the dried remains of previous victims.

Mattie started walking forward with calm, deliberate steps. The floor beneath her was stained with several decades’ worth of various bodily secretions. She began to circle around the man’s chair, casually admiring Gibson’s handy-work. There was a delicate balance to the art of torture, and Gibson was worthy of his trade. Portions of his fingers were strewn about the floor where they had been chopped off of his left hand. Holes had been drilled into both of his feet, and it looked as though one of his kneecaps had been shattered. A number of his teeth were littering the ground, and there was blood dribbling heavily down his chin. She wondered if that was a result of his broken jaw, or if Gibson had physically pulled them out. It always took a little “gentle massaging” to have her guests ready for an interrogation, and she’d just as soon leave the preliminary work to the devices of her very capable Tailor.

The poor fool’s heartbeat was frantically racing as she began moving closer and closer to him. The sharp click of her heels mingled together nicely with the harsh rasp of his breathing. She eventually stopped right in front of his chair, and her shadow fell over his trembling form. She was staring hungrily at the blood on his chest. It looked wonderfully savory and delicious.     

 _“Do you know who I am?”_ she asked conversationally in perfect, lilting Italian.

He seemed incapable of meeting her stare, but he managed to nod in the affirmative.

 _“Good,”_ said Mattie as she looked him up and down, mapping the trails of blood along his skin. _“Then we won’t waste time with formal introductions since I’m sure you’re just as eager to skip them. Would you like to continue this conversation in Italian, or would you prefer something else? Your passport suggests that you’re actually an American, but I never like to make assumptions.”_

The man’s jaw was clenched tightly in pain. “Hmmerican…” he mumbled.

“Excellent,” said Mattie, switching immediately to English. “We’re off to a marvelous start already.” 

She started walking around him again, and the sound of each step caused him to flinch. She made little effort to avoid the blood on the floor. No one had ever accused her of being squeamish.

“You’ve recently had quite the time of it, haven’t you?” said Mattie with a hint of amusement. “Drugs… sports cars… a long, exotic holiday with a variety of beautiful young prostitutes…” Her lips stretched into a thin smile. “Your kind are so _utterly_ predictable. You gain a modest fortune and you invariably spend it on the silliest, most unremarkable diversions.”

The man said nothing, though she imagined that talking would have been difficult with a broken jaw. The blood loss couldn’t have been helping him either. His skin looked exceptionally pale.

She placed her hands on top of his shoulders and calmly leaned down just behind him. He sharply inhaled, but kept his eyes forward. The neck restraint didn’t allow for much movement.

“I should applaud you,” she whispered softly in his ear. “You very nearly got away with it. The Board was convinced that Statler was responsible for keeping Thalia’s death a secret. All eyes were focused on the man most likely to benefit from burning her beautiful corpse. No one would have suspected the smiling, simple chauffeur who was ‘far too stupid’ to know any better.”

She walked to his side while brushing her fingers over the bleeding mess of his face. “That was very impressive— almost _too_ impressive. It’s not easy to fool immortal demons.”

A drop of his blood fell on her fingers, and she carefully brought it to her lips. The scent was intoxicating. She briefly licked it off while savoring the taste of him on her tongue.

“I was a young girl in Egypt when I first learned the art of sleight of hand,” she said faintly. “I was so focused on the cups the street peddler was spinning in front of me, that I _almost_ missed the coin he’d palmed in his robe.” Mattie reached down and lifted the man’s chin, tilting it gently towards her. Her touch was delicate, but he still whined in pain. Most of his face was hideously swollen.

“Simple misdirection,” Mattie continued. “The most effective trick you’ll ever learn. You distract with your right hand while the left moves against the player still thoughtlessly fixed on the illusion.”

She released his chin and began circling him again, all but ignoring his dreadful whimpering. “And now, Giovanni— may I call you Giovanni? I think we should begin with the basic facts. I also hope there aren’t any misunderstandings about how this will end if you’re not cooperative. We’ve really only scratched the surface of how efficiently Mr. Gibson can torture you. So? The rules are these: you’re going to answer all of my questions in _very_ explicit detail. You’ll also fill in the missing pieces of what I don’t already know. Feel free to correct me if my information is inaccurate, as I expect your candid honesty. If I’m satisfied by your answers, the torture ends. Have I made myself abundantly clear?”

He absently leaned his head to one side. It seemed an acceptable response.

“Good,” she said. “Then why don’t we start with what little I’ve gathered on my own? As I understand it, your employer was killed sometime around the beginning of September. You were part of a select entourage that accompanied her to Sardinia where her corpse was later discovered at a private villa. Then, in a rather _misguided_ effort to conceal Thalia’s death from the Board, someone suggested burning the body instead of coming forward with the information. Statler inevitably took the fall for it, being her second in command, and you took a small fortune to Australia for a bit of harmless fun. Is that correct?”

Giovanni wordlessly rolled his head back, which Mattie found mildly displeasing. She was growing tired of his whimpering silence. Perhaps the knee would make an acceptable pressure point?

She stopped in front of him and gracefully knelt down, placing her hands on both of his legs. His breathing stilled as he watched her hand move over the bruised flesh of his shattered knee-cap.

“I don’t care if you made off with Thalia’s money and spent it on frivolous nonsense,” she whispered, “and I certainly don’t care about the _pathetic_ lengths you’ve gone to to cover up the whole ugly business. What I _want_ to know is how she was killed and who orchestrated her death. All of this seems so terribly coincidental, and I’ve never believed in coincidences.” She smiled warmly. “Tell me Giovanni— who would have known she was in Italy? And whose idea was it to burn the body? I don’t think it was actually yours, was it?”

He sat mutely without moving or blinking until Mattie began to squeeze his shattered knee. He started screaming, loud and horrible, until she slowly relaxed her hold on his mottled flesh.

“No…” he rasped. “Not… not mine. I was only fff-following instructions.”

“Instructions?” she clarified.

“Fffffm,” he groaned. “Frmm my contact.”

“And who’s your contact?”

He licked his lips. “I dnnn… don’t know. We... never met face to face. S-sent me a m-message from an... unknown number. Promised me money if I gave them details on… on her movements.”

Mattie smiled. “Did you even bother to question who on earth this person was? How they managed to acquire your number in the first place or what their intentions even were?”

“Hhhnn…” he slurred. “There was a…  huge deposit in my b...bank account. Said more was c-coming... Just n-nneeded to send specifics on our… travel dates and times.”

“Of course,” she said while nodding slowly. “That sounds just about right. Tell me— out of interest— do you often exchange numbers with attractive young women you meet at bars?”

He cautiously looked up with a pathetic expression. It was all the confirmation she needed.

“Well,” she sighed. “That solves that. Did you suspect your contact was planning to kill her?”

“No…” he stammered. “No, no... I swear. I d-didn’t know anything. I didn’t know! Just sent the schedules… Just sent the texts.”

“Mmmm…” she said while moving to stand again. “Plausibile deniability. How perfect.”

She calmly reached over and picked up a scalpel off of the soiled table. She tested the blade’s sharpness against her fingertip as Giovanni started to squirm in his chair.

“Let’s get back to my earlier question about the method of Thalia’s death. You must have seen the body before it was burned. What state did you find it in?”

The fool was struggling helplessly in his restraints as his eyes locked onto the rusted blade. Mattie could smell the fear dripping off of him. If she wasn’t pressed for time, she might have savored it.

“Statler couldn’t have handled the body himself,” Mattie quietly continued. “He was a frail, pathetic wisp of man who looked like a slight breeze might kill him. Who would have carried her out into the field so that Statler could burn the body? The Hasturmenchen never bothered to ask him before they drove a knife through his skull.” She slowly leaned down and placed the scalpel beneath Giovanni’s eye. “You were the _only_ one strong enough to carry her corpse _._ Paint me a picture: what did she look like?”

His chest was heaving as he fought, rather weakly, to control his quaking terror. It was clear the fool was still in agony as evidenced by how badly he was shaking. “I got... I got a call from Mr. Statler at around 3:00 in the morning the night of the sixth. He’d found... he’d found Ms. Thalia’s body in one of the upstairs bedrooms.” He swallowed thickly, trying to lick the blood that was dribbling over his lips. “Statler asked me to come as s-soon as I could. I...knew it was bad when he wouldn’t say much else.”

Mattie silently nodded for him to continue as she started to pace the room again. She twisted the scalpel between her fingers, being careful to avoid the rusted blade.

“When I got to the villa... the place s...smelled like the inside of a butcher’s shop,” he muttered. “Her body was laid out on the floor of the bedroom, and it looked like an animal had torn it open.”

“Were there bite marks?” she asked.

“I can’t… I can’t remember. But there were huge, b-bloody gashes all over her skin. Like… sss-something had violently clawed it up. There was a lot… a lot of blood.”

Mattie’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Were there any missing parts on the body?”

Giovanni tensed. She stopped right behind him, and her shadow loomed menacingly over his shoulder.

“Her... lower jaw was torn clean off,” he said in a quiet voice. “And… and her heart…”

“Yes?” she said quietly.   

“Her hhh... heart had been ripped out of her chest.”

Mattie went cold. It was an unusual sensation, as temperature to a vampire was rather subjective. But the chill that traveled up the slope of her spine was as sharp and definitive as the blade in her hand. She had hoped, somewhat foolishly, that her instincts had been wrong, but there was a reason why she had outlived all of her enemies. Call it premonition, or the ability to read an opponent before they could play the cards in their hands.  

“Thank you,” said Mattie with mild diffidence as she reached down and promptly snapped his neck. His body slumped forward, and she dropped the scalpel on the table before quickly stepping around the chair.

She moved over to the sink that was right beside the door where a towel was neatly folded on the basin. Mr. Gibson had obviously left it there for her, as was his usual courtesy. She knocked on the door before wiping her hands clean of tortured sweat and blood. The door creaked open and Madeline stood before her, looking poised and professional, as always. “Everything clear?”

“Yes,” said Mattie, dropping the towel on the floor. “Mr. Gibson can return for the body. There should be enough of the fool still intact for our Tailor’s personal amusements.”

Her assistant turned to head down the corridor when Mattie stopped her with her hand. “No,” said Mattie. “I’ll have Renland send for him. I need you to do something else for me.”

Madeline flipped open her tablet again. “What would you like me to do?”

“Get me an electronic copy of Laura Hollis’s phone records. I want them dated back as early as September. Get me texting logs... pictures... incoming calls… everything. You may have to reach out to our contacts in Canada. Call in a favor with Talmage if you need to do it. He owes me for that last job in Prague.”

Madeline made a note on her device. “Will our funds be discretionary?”

“Pay whatever you have to pay, but I want them as soon as possible.”

She typed quickly into her tablet again. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” said Mattie. “I think it’s time we took a trip to the library. Mother has some books I’m dying to read.”

\----

In the vivid blue of the Mediterranean Sea, a far distance from the eastern shores of Spain, there was a small islet that rose above the water, hardly visible against the distant horizon. Sun-bleached rock and sparse vegetation stretched across its barren landscape, cut with ragged mineral formations that had steadily accumulated over time. To the traveling seafarer, the skerry was unremarkable; hardly worthy of any thought or exploration. The tides would drift into its rough, jagged cliffs, but as a whole, the rocks remained unmolested.

Yet buried beneath the sand and salt of this small, forgotten islet, an ancient secret lay hidden within the north-facing side of the barren rock. A slight crack in the cliffs above led down into the deepest darkness where a series of tunnels gradually descended into a large and spacious catacomb. Here, the hands of the old Hasturian Order had carved a hallowed place in the halls of time— built with rock and bones from the fields that Hastur was said to have walked in. The walls were adorned in signs and symbols from several millennia past, and massive columns circled the room, set with ancient carvings in bas-relief. The towering ceiling dripped steadily with water, forming shallow puddles all over the floor, and a great stone staircase rose up to a high balcony that overlooked the floor of the Holy Court. A stone altar was raised before the assembly, stained with the blood of human sacrifice. Beyond the altar lay the doors to the Holy Sanctuary: the refuge of the Hasturian High Priests.

This sacred temple had long been protected under a curious assortment of ancient magiks, shrouding its existence from the eyes of humanity and holding its foundations firm and strong. It had gone by many names over the centuries in the tongues of fools and scholars: The Sunken Shrine… The Fallen Temple of Hastur… The Great Cathedral of the Drowned Sun.

But only Hastur’s favored sons knew and spoke it’s sacred name: _Ekallim Iksuda Utu Hastur_ : The Temple of the Conquered Sun.  

Every year, the faithful would gather to pay homage to the great Yellow King. It was a day of faith, blood, and devotion to the Burned God of their fathers. It had long been sought and celebrated by the Hasturmenchen for many thousands of years, though the times and seasons were constantly shifting, much like the waters of the Mediterranean.

This year, the All-Father had decreed that the Day of Sacrifice would fall on the winter solstice, pronouncing the blessing of _Litum_ on the faithful and strength to their holy order. But the All-Father—the Stranger—never attended the rites Himself. It was said that He hadn’t for centuries. Tradition would follow that the High Priests of Hastur would preside under the acting authority of their King.

It was a time of celebration. The day of the winter solstice— of _sacrifice—_ had finally arrived. The temple was filled to its greatest capacity with the most loyal assembly of the Hasturmenchen. The monks had gathered from the four corners of the earth to pay homage to their sleeping God. They stood shoulder to shoulder within the Holy Court, waiting earnestly for the ceremony to begin. The low chanting of the monks reverberated throughout the temple’s catacombs, and the magic fire lighting the torches spit and smoldered within the darkness. Soon, the High Priest would emerge from the Sanctuary to begin the sacramental rites. His bearers would bring the virgin to the altar, washed and bound as the hallowed sacrifice.

A lowly monk stood with his brothers at the base of the rough stone steps. His face was marked with salt and ashes as a sign of his deference to the Gods. His arms, chest, legs, and feet had been freshly carved with the ancient symbols of the Holy Order’s illustrious histories long imprinted upon Hastur’s sons. The blade that had sliced his skin was sheathed in fine leather across his back. He had proved himself worthy, and he would finally be allowed to partake of the virgin sacrifice.

The chanting increased in strength and volume as the monks lifted their arms in supplication. They called to the Stranger. They called to Hastur. They called for the Sun to burn their enemies. Their yellow robes caught the light of the torches that sparked fiercely all around them, casting the assembly in a radiant glow as powerful and primal as the sun. The brethren looked up to the doors of the Sanctuary beyond the stone altar, and the swell of their voices was as loud as the thunder: _“Hastur Ilu Titaan!”_

The doors to the Sanctuary slowly opened, and the assembly bowed their heads. The chanting subsided into a deepened whisper of the familiar prayer of Hastur’s children. When the prayer was finished, they looked back to the balcony in search of their great High Priest.

No one was there. The doors had been opened, but the Sanctuary was veiled in darkness.  

The brethren waited. Whispers and murmurs enveloped the solemn assembly. Where was Sonoma? Where were his bearers? Were they expected to wait for them?

The room fell silent as a hooded figure appeared from the shadows of the Holy Sanctuary. They were shrouded in robes of the deepest black� as opposed to the yellow robes of the Hasturmenchen. An uneasy murmur rose from the congregation as the figure came before the altar. Even the ashen monk narrowed his eyes. What blasphemy was this?

A pale hand was revealed beneath the sleeve of the flowing black robe. It was certainly not the scarred hand of Sonoma, nor did it belong to any of his bearers. The brethren were beginning to voice their cries of “insolence” and “blasphemy” much more forcefully, but all were silenced when the hand reached into the robe to produce the severed head of Sonoma.

The monks stared in horror. For a fraction of an instant, no one could move or speak. Their priest’s head was raised high before them, mouth hanging open and eyes rolled back. The cloaked figure lifted their other hand to the material just below their face. The hood was pulled back, revealing a fanged monster more beautiful and terrible than the Eldritch.  

It was a daughter of Inanna... a pale walker... a vampire with eyes as black as the seven hells. Crimson blood stained her lips and chin, and ran in tiny rivers down her throat. Her lips were stretched into a terrible smile that twisted into a grimace, and she dropped Sonoma’s head on top of the altar in an act of the greatest blasphemy.

A furious roar thundered across the room as the monks cried out for the creature’s head. Nothing so wholly profane had ever happened within their shrine of sacred stone. Several were already ascending the stairs with brandished knives in their hands, calling upon the All-Father to strike her down with the vengeance of the Conquered Sun.

But the brazen fiend stood firmly without moving behind their sacred altar, and her gaze was markedly fixed on the steps that led to the Holy Court.

The ashen monk followed her stare to the steps of the balcony staircase. He’d failed to notice they were stained with something… a dark, viscous substance of unknown origins. It spread down the steps between puddles of water onto the floor of the Holy Court. He followed the trail with curious eyes... It looked like it circled the entire room. The robes and feet of his brothers had unconsciously smeared it into the stone, and it looked as though the puddles of water had failed to wash it off.       

A sickening dread overwhelmed his senses as he suddenly turned back to the vampire. Her eyes lit up with a fierce yellow glow, and a small smile played upon her lips. Just as his brothers were about to reach her, a small flame ignited upon the steps. It roared to life as a blazing conflagration that violently engulfed the ascending monks.

The assembly watched in perfect horror as their brothers screamed in agony. The flames spread down the substance on the stairs as fast and furiously as the wind. A chorus of screams rang out into the darkness as the fire engulfed the entire floor, circling the room, trapping the monks and immersing them all in fire.  

The young monk screamed as the flames tore into him, searing the blackened substance on his robes. He tried to drag his body into a puddle, but the flames could not be extinguished. The horrific wailing of his noble brothers crashed painfully into his senses, and in every direction, he could see their bodies burning with Inanna’s terrible light.

He began to tear the garments off of his body before the fire completely devoured him. He clawed and ripped the robes from his flesh as the flames continued to burn him. With surprising strength, he managed to pull the material off of his freshly scorched legs, and he lay naked on the stone for several seconds, struggling to recapture his breath.

His gaze fell on the balcony above, but the vile creature had disappeared. The tunnel leading to the surface had been blocked. How had the demon escaped?

He eyes rolled over to the interior of the Sanctuary, and a hopeful thought suddenly occurred to him.

The Sanctuary. The inner chamber.

There was a way to escape.  

All he had to do was reach it.

He slowly began to claw his way up along each of the rough stone steps, trying to avoid the thick line of fire still burning straight down the center of them. His legs were almost completely useless as the fire had seared the skin off them, and the shrieking cries of raw, unfettered agony were as loud and horrible as the roaring flames.

His brothers were burning. The elements were shifting. Hastur’s rites had been violated. The Holy Temple of the Conquered Sun had been irreparably desecrated. Where was Hastur’s all-consuming wrath to be meted upon His enemies? How long would He suffer His sons to burn in the flames of Inanna’s vile daughter?

Bit by bit, stone by stone, his arms pulled him closer to the Sanctuary. The searing pain in his legs and back allowed him to stay focused— to stay conscious. The smoke from the fire had risen towards the ceiling like a dark, swirling wraith, scorching the air and stealing the breaths from Hastur’s most loyal sons.

When he finally reached the top of the steps where the stone altar stood, he whispered his prayer of blood and humility to the All-Father for sparing his life. _“Ditallu Titaan,”_ he hoarsely choked as he pressed his face to the ground. His muscles ached, and his flesh was searing, but the Gods had favored him to live.

He slowly looked up and stared past the altar to the temple’s Holy Sanctuary. The doors were still open, and the passage leading out was visible within the inner chamber. All he had to do was pull himself forward just a little bit further along. He would find the steps that led to the surface, and from there, the cool waters of the Mediterranean.    

But as hope freely surged, his gaze suddenly fell to the stone floor of the Sanctuary. He could see, from this distance, a small electronic device set at the base of Hastur’s weathered statue. A cluster of wires was fixed to the device with a slim, gray box taped to the front of it. A green light was flashing on and off in a clipped, measured sequence.

His breath escaped him. Paralysis took hold as the muscles in his body constricted. Within that moment, his eyes glazed over with the cold understanding that becomes the look of the damned.   

The last thing he heard was the high-frequency pitch of the bomb’s timed detonation. The air hotly shifted for a fraction of a second before a series of violent explosions followed. There hadn’t been been time to think or scream as white light immediately seared his vision, rending his body into shapeless matter amidst the crumbling rock and stone.

\----

Laura was curled into a soft leather chair set in front a large bay window. The view looked out over the Le Diben coastline lit only by a waxing gibbous moon. The lights were off, the room was still, and all she could hear was the ocean. She watched the rough waves crash into the shoreline before coating the rocky beach in a blanket of sea foam.  

Laura was cold. She hadn’t bothered to light a fire in any of the rooms that night. Instead, she sat barefoot tucked under a blanket with a thin pair of jeans covering her legs. A loose knitted top was hanging off of her shoulder, and she felt a slight breeze down her back. Her teeth softly grazed the tip of her thumb as she stared off into the distance beyond the horizon.

It was already after midnight, but Laura was wide awake. There was nervous energy coursing through her blood. Time had passed at a slow, painful crawl for every minute and every moment Carmilla was gone.

The last three days had been spent in restless solitude as Laura wandered the coast of Brittany alone. Plougasnou was beautiful, but its charms were strangely lost on her when her heart was somewhere far from its windswept shores.

She ran her fingers absently along her necklace. It felt light and cool against her skin.

She was ruined.

She knew it.

And Laura didn’t care.

Laura didn’t really care at all.

The only thoughts that kept running through her mind were the countless wasted opportunities she’d come to regret over a lifetime filled with setbacks and too many painful disappointments. Somewhere along the road, she’d obviously grown content to watch them form and fall by the wayside, never really daring to look back and wonder where those missed opportunities might have taken her.

How had that happened? When did Laura stop caring? And what use was it to hope for better things when she clearly believed that all life would offer her were its meaningless platitudes of indifference? She’d heard them all. Hell, she’d had them memorized. They were her unfailing source of comfort. _The world was imperfect. Disappointment was inevitable. Nobody ever gets what they really want._

But she was tired of regrets. She was tired of always settling. And she was tired of second-guessing every decision.

For the first time in her life, she wanted to face her fears by openly embracing the vast unknown.

The sea before her was beautiful and untamed, calling to some forgotten part of her soul. It took what it wanted as it rolled across the shore, and its depths remained dark and unfathomable.

She thought she’d imagined the click of a lock until she heard the door gently creak open. Laura felt her skin beginning to warm as she quickly turned around to face the doorway.    

Carmilla stepped silently into the darkness before she closed the door softly behind her. Had Laura been sitting anywhere else in the house, she was certain she never would have heard her. She was dressed all in black, looking feral and stunning as if she’d been running wild through the countryside. Her eyes were bright and suddenly very focused when she realized that Laura was still awake.

They didn’t say anything. The ocean filled the silence as their eyes met each other’s from across the room. Laura wordlessly slipped out of the chair and quietly stood to face her, suddenly trembling.

Carmilla watched her, dark and intense, like an animal poised dangerously in the shadows.

Laura breathed in, her chest rising and falling, waiting eagerly for the night to finally devour her.  

And then the distance between them vanished as they frantically came together in the darkness. Laura’s mouth was pressing against Carmilla’s with a hunger she didn’t know she even possessed.

The kiss was searing. The taste was exhilarating. It was all she had ever wanted. The painful ache that held all of her fears was lost in the sweetness of Carmilla’s mouth.

They grasped and pulled each other closer with pressing fingers and bruising lips. Every heated breath they shared demanded more of each other— more of _everything._ There wasn’t enough time or space or feeling to capture the intensity of it all, and Laura was terrified her heart would give out before Carmilla could claim it as her own.

But Carmilla had no intention of surrendering Laura’s heart to the darkness. She forced Laura’s blood to beat faster and heavier as she lifted Laura possessively in her arms. Laura held on with all of her strength as her legs wrapped around Carmilla’s waist. Carmilla was ultimately Laura’s hope and salvation from the agony that could only be described as love.  

They moved through the darkness with fevered desperation, driven by a longing that couldn’t be tamed. Carmilla carried her firmly in her arms as her teeth raked the skin down Laura’s throat. Laura’s hands slipped tightly into her hair as she held her as close as she possibly could.

They didn't need the stars.

They had found each other.

And they were never, _ever_ letting go.


	12. The Hour Rising

Laura could sense her consciousness shifting from the familiar haze of a dream. The dream was wonderful, even if it was only a stream of vague impressionistic images. A light as bright as new-fallen snow was fading the further she drifted away from it, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to wake up or chase the light as it receded.

Her body felt heavy. The warmth that enveloped her was a defined press of blankets and sheets. All of her senses were softly stirring to life again as Laura gradually opened her eyes.

The room was dark. A few patches of moonlight were visible on the wall beside her door. She could still hear the sounds of the ocean outside her room, gently trying to lull her back to sleep.

Laura breathed in. An awareness of her surroundings was slowly beginning to return to her. She was at a cottage in Plougasnou out near the harbor where the sea was cold and beautiful.

Other memories were returning as well; vivid recollections of a slender pair of arms that had carried Laura through the darkness...

But this time the darkness was far from frightening, and she had willingly, _eagerly_ surrendered to it.

She shifted quietly beneath the covers and turned to look behind her. The bed was empty, but an impression in the mattress suggested that she hadn’t been there alone. Her breathing grew heavier as she faintly wondered if there were similar impressions all over her skin, mapping the different places Carmilla had touched her when they came together during the night.

Laura remembered happily drifting off into a deep, weightless sleep with a heated body pressed up against her and a soft pair of lips kissing her neck. She couldn’t have dreamt it. Every muscle in her body still ached with exquisite memories. No passing dream or flight of fancy could have conjured something quite so surreal.   

Laura tensed as she slowly sat up, bringing the blankets to her chest. She searched the room, but there didn't seem to be any trace of her stunning, broody companion.

Had Carmilla left? Had she quietly disappeared into the night while Laura was sleeping? Or was she sitting somewhere alone in the dark, fighting another night of restless sleep?

Laura turned to the glass french doors that led out onto the balcony. She could see Carmilla beyond them, looking out over the ocean as the wind swept her hair back over her shoulders.  

Laura exhaled. A moment of pure relief instantly flooded her heart.

She wasn't alone.

Carmilla was still here.

She hadn't been abandoned.

Her eyes adjusted to the light of the moon that captured Carmilla’s slender profile. She looked flawlessly gorgeous… like a dark, celestial creature that had been spun from somewhere in the heavens. She was wearing a black robe that whipped around her figure, cloaking her against a backdrop of stars. The moon enhanced the beauty of her skin, caressing her pale features like a lover.

Laura could only stare for several quiet moments of soft, even reverent reflection. She wondered what Carmilla was thinking— if even the smallest part of her regretted what had happened between them that night. For Laura’s part, she could honestly say that she’d never experienced anything like it. If there was anything to regret, it was every night she'd spent _without_ Carmilla holding her in her arms. She could still feel Carmilla’s hands on her skin. She could still feel her heat burning its way through her. She had left Laura fully and marvelously sated, but in some ways, it could never be enough.

Laura had always assumed that Carmilla was a passionate lover. Everything about her seemed to suggest it: the way she moved… the way she spoke…the way that Carmilla kissed her as if Laura was the wellspring of Carmilla’s existence. It was something inherent in those dark, fathomless eyes that promised you pleasures unknown— a ravenous lust that seemed almost feral in Carmilla’s most unguarded moments.

And Laura had long been painfully aware of the desires that Carmilla had been harboring for her, but nothing on earth could have possibly prepared Laura for such an intense _physical_ demonstration.

They’d made love for hours. Literal _hours._ Carmilla was utterly insatiable. But what was infinitely more shocking was her own insatiable hunger to devour and be devoured by Carmilla. They just couldn't stop. Desperation had driven them to the edge of helpless restraint. They’d eagerly indulged themselves in each other while exploring incredible heights of gratification. Carmilla had touched and tasted every inch of her as if Laura’s life was depending on it, and there were definitely moments when Laura was convinced she would die if Carmilla dared to stop.

But Laura was equally as determined to have her way with her, taking Carmilla boldly again and again, and Carmilla had offered her very little resistance when faced with Laura’s all-consuming passion.

It had been soft and slow. It had been hard and frantic as they’d fallen into each other with reckless abandon. It was the single most incredible night of Laura’s life, if only because she knew she was in love.  

And that was it, really. Laura was in love. It was the simple, undeniable truth. She’d spent so much time trying to convince herself otherwise, but now?

There was only Carmilla.

Laura quietly slipped out of bed, and the cool air chilled her naked skin. She was still wearing the necklace; surprisingly, it was the only thing that Carmilla hadn’t ripped off of her body. Laura ran her fingers over the slim, delicate chain before she reached for a blanket on the bed. She considered getting dressed, but the majority of her clothing was probably scattered somewhere up the staircase.  

Laura wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and headed towards the balcony. She could see Carmilla more clearly at this distance, and she tried to guess what she might have been feeling.

Carmilla seemed distraught. She was leaning against the guardrail, and her gaze wasn’t focused on anything. She looked lost. Consumed. Utterly conflicted... like a terrible weight was pressing down on her shoulders.

Laura was scared. She’d never seen Carmilla like this, and Laura wasn't sure what it meant. Maybe it was safer to just go back to bed…

...But when had she ever been safe with Carmilla?

She opened the doors as quietly as possible and stepped out onto the balcony. Her feet nearly froze when they hit the wooden deck, and a fine mist of seaspray greeted her skin. It was colder than she’d expected, but Laura instantly warmed at the sight of the girl who’d claimed her heart. She hugged her blanket more tightly around her as she nervously glanced up at Carmilla.

“Carm?” said Laura with soft uncertainty. She wasn’t sure if Carmilla could even hear her. The waves were loud as they crashed into the shoreline, but Carmilla turned to face her all the same.

The dark expression that had clouded her features suddenly shifted into soft adoration. It was as if Laura’s presence on that starlit balcony was a divine revelation she’d been waiting for. Their eyes met, and Laura could see the devotion written so plainly in Carmilla’s countenance. It felt like the stars were guiding them home after years spent wandering in the wilderness.

“Laura...” she said with quiet reverence and even a hint of concern. “What are you doing? It’s freezing out here. You need to get back inside.”

Laura looked up as Carmilla approached, and she felt inexplicably shy. There were so many things that needed to be said; so many things that Carmilla needed to know. She smiled a little when Carmilla reached up and gently took her face in her hands. There were stars in her eyes, both reflected and imagined in the dark, vibrant depths of Carmilla’s gaze.

Laura carefully opened the blanket and wrapped her arms around her, bringing their bodies closer together so that Laura could share Carmilla’s warmth. It felt so incredible— just having her here, _right_ _here_ in Laura’s arms. She nuzzled the skin on Carmilla’s neck, reveling in her soft, persistent warmth.  

Neither of them moved for the longest time. All they wanted to do was hold each other. Laura was the first to slightly pull away, but only so she was facing Carmilla completely.

“I think...” she whispered, her eyes firmly closed as she pressed her forehead against Carmilla’s. Her heart was beating as loud as the ocean. “I think that I’m in love with you.”

She could actually feel the smile on Carmilla’s lips as Carmilla softly exhaled. A moment passed before she felt Carmilla’s fingers pressing gently into the skin behind her neck.

Laura summoned a tiny amount of courage and looked up with all the love in her heart.

Carmilla traced her thumb across her cheek, then whispered, “I think you’re a miracle.”

Laura faintly shook her head. She’d felt the words as much as she’d heard them. They smiled at each other before Carmilla brought Laura against her, cradling Laura tightly in her arms. Laura snuggled happily into her warmth and pressed a kiss to her chest, but with Carmilla’s words came a flicker of uncertainty. There were doubts still weighing on her mind.  

“You left me again,” said Laura quietly.

Carmilla slid her hands through Laura’s hair. “Well… If I’d known how _much_ you were going to miss me, I’d have gotten here a whole lot sooner.”  

Laura couldn’t find the humor in her words. Her absence still felt too painful. She buried her face in Carmilla’s neck and tried to make sense of what she was feeling.

“I don’t like when you leave,” she softly murmured. “I don’t like when you pull away from me. I need you as close to me as possible because I feel like I can't even breathe without you. And I know that sounds clingy and desperate and terrible but I honestly can’t help it. I _can’t._ I’m in love with you, Carm, and if you’re going to break my heart, then you need to do it now before it kills me.”

Carmilla was silent. It seemed like every word was slowly and painfully unraveling her. But then she smiled and brought their foreheads back together so she could breathe Laura in more completely.

“You don’t get it…” she whispered with painful emotion. “Laura… look at me. I’m _yours._ I've never felt this way about anyone and I _cannot_ get you out of my system. You're in my veins. You're beneath my skin. All I want is to _drown_ in you. Every morning and every night. I want you, Laura. _I want you…”_

Laura was struggling to calm her racing heart as Carmilla’s words washed over her. She breathed in deeply before she leaned up to kiss her with all of the fire in her soul.

The sounds of the ocean seemed soft and distant compared to her own labored breathing, and she moaned as Carmilla’s mouth moved down to taste the heated skin on her neck.

“Please don't leave me again…” Laura whimpered as Carmilla’s lips claimed her throat.

 _“Never,”_ Carmilla hissed between mouthfuls of skin. “I’m _never_ going to leave you again.”

Laura exhaled before she anxiously leaned back to ardently kiss her again. Carmilla was going to _know_ just how much Laura loved her before this night was over.  

“What do you want?” Carmilla whispered hotly against Laura’s eager mouth. Her hands had slipped beneath the blanket where she could feel the skin on Laura’s body.  

Laura breathed in as Carmilla began to trace each curve with the palms of her hands. She fervently clutched at the soft, silk robe that was clinging to Carmilla’s back. “Tell me you love me,” she said in a whisper between their searing kisses, pulling Carmilla more tightly against her so she could feel the heat from her body.

Carmilla gave her a gentle smirk as she playfully bit down on Laura’s lip. “I am completely... helplessly... and _violently_ in love with you.”

Laura leaned back. “Now _show_ me.”

Carmilla could hardly contain her growl. Laura had called down the storm. The wild, insatiable animal had returned to rightfully claim what was hers.

Her mouth captured Laura’s in a passionate kiss that was wildly fierce and possessive, and Laura struggled to hang onto her blanket as Carmilla lifted her off the ground. Laura could only smile as she firmly wrapped her arms around Carmilla’s perfect neck, returning each kiss with hungry enthusiasm as Carmilla carried her back into the bedroom.  

There, in the hours leading up until dawn, Carmilla found every way to prove her love to her. They lost themselves to the night and to each other as Laura whispered her love in return.

\----

Thick snow was falling outside. It had been blanketing Silas for days. The white winter landscape cast the perfect sort of backdrop for an Austrian Christmas Eve. Candles and carolers lined the narrow streets, and windows in every building were glowing with light. It lent a quiet, almost storybook magic to the forested beauty of Silas.   

Mattie was generally rather fond of the holidays when they came around each year. Even the commercialized nonsense of the day was not without its charms. Old traditions had come and gone with every passing century, and it never failed to astonish her just how quickly they changed over time. But Mattie never regretted their passing. It wasn’t in her nature to look back. Regret was a luxury that immortals could ill afford if they hoped to endure longer than a century. It was best to enjoy the world as it turned and allow yourself to turn along with it. Romanticizing the past was a construct for those too timid to face the uncertainties of the future.

Regrettably, Mattie was far too distracted to enjoy the festivities of the evening. She was just getting home after a frustrating conference with one of her accountants in Beijing. That, on top of the hell she’d been through scouring the library for Sumerian texts was almost enough to drive her off to Morocco for a long, extended holiday.

Mattie glanced at the time on her phone. She was going to be late to Deidre's party. Hopefully Madeline had called in advance to let them know she was running behind schedule.

“Would you like me to wait by the gate, Ms. Belmonde?” said her driver, pulling into the carpark.

“That won’t be necessary. One of their people should be coming to collect me just after eight o’clock.”

He parked the car and stepped out of the vehicle to open the door for her. Mattie gave him a courteous nod before handing him a small white envelope. “Thank you, Holland. I should be back within a week or two if time and the weather permits it. In the meantime, have a very Merry Christmas, and please give my love to Kristine.”

He graciously thanked her as she moved into the elevator that led to her apartments above the carpark. She also sent another text to Boncela confirming she’d be in Wolfsberg for the next few days. In truth, Mattie would have preferred to stay in Silas given everything that was stacked on her plate, but keeping up appearances with Austria’s social circles was every bit as important as ritual sacrifices.

The elevator slowly came to a stop, opening into a dark, spacious hallway. Mattie’s home was a beautiful glass mansion that her mother had built near Lake Silas. The design was modern, and perhaps a bit impractical for the colder Styrian climate. Still, it commanded an incredible view of the forest on the western side of the lake.

The rooms were silent. The majority of her staff had been excused for the holidays several days earlier. It was a small miracle that the place was still clean since Mattie was known for causing a little chaos. After tossing her coat over one of the chairs and removing both of her shoes, she headed into her main living area without bothering to turn on any of the lights.    

She caught their scent almost immediately— the very second she stepped into the living room. The smell was familiar, though she struggled to place its origin within the deepest recesses of her memory. It was a musty, ancient, earthy smell mixed with the barest hint of decay. Mattie tensed, preparing for an attack as she scanned the room for signs of her intruders.

There were figures in the darkness. She could see them very clearly, scattered around the room like painted statues. They wore the robes of the Hasturmenchen Order, and their faces bore the same sacred scars. And yet, these creatures were markedly different from any of the monks she’d encountered, even as the same maddening scent invaded her senses, taunting her with long forgotten memories. All of their eyes and ears were sewn shut. Their faces were blank and expressionless. Each was carrying a sharpened sickle that rested against their chests.

But it wasn’t the monks that disturbed her so deeply, though their presence was wholly disconcerting. It was the figure sitting in the chair before her, cloaked within the shadows of the room. She could see his pale, disfigured skin… the yellow stain in his eyes. It had been a lifetime— at least _several_ lifetimes since she’d stood in the presence of the Stranger.

Mattie felt the cold grip of terror wrap itself around her spine. She quickly suppressed it, knowing full well how easily a predator could smell fear. Nothing in the cards could have prepared her for this, and her mind was racing frantically. If the Stranger was here, it could only mean one thing…

Mircalla had done something horrible.

 _“Belmonde Matska,”_ he whispered darkly in a voice that was low and sinister.

Mattie humbly bowed her head without ever taking her eyes off him.

The Yellow King had practically become a legend within Mattie’s considerable lifetime. The ancients regarded him as a type of avatar for Hastur, though Hastur had been dead for six millennia. He was tall, pale, and rakishly thin, affecting the appearance of a walking skeleton, and the scars on his flesh were so numerous and deep, his skin looked unnaturally painful. They called him the Mouthpiece of the famed Shepherd God, clothed in the blood of an immortal man, and the Hasturmenchen had served him devotedly since the earliest civilizations dotted the earth. Mattie’s encounters with the Stranger had been limited— maybe two or three she could remember. He’d gone into seclusion several centuries ago, and none but his priests had seen him since.

And yet here he was, sitting in her living room, surrounded by his silent, altered guard. If she wasn’t convinced that this was the prelude to violence, she would have found it frighteningly amusing.

 _“Awil Hastur,_ ” she said with quiet grace. “Our praise to the Yellow King. Long may His Shepherd walk the fields of man in the shadow of the conquered sun.”

The Stranger clenched and unclenched his fists on the wooden arms of the chair. His gaze was cold, sharp, and calculating. “Why have I been summoned?” he asked.

Mattie folded her hands together. “I’m not sure I understand, _Utu Sarrum_. We are content to speak through your noble servants. I would never presume to summon you.”

“Would you not?” he said without a trace of humor while running his fingers together. He was carefully studying her, and his dull, jaundiced eyes seemed to be searching for something in her countenance. “Words need not be spoken to summon the divine anger of the Gods. If I’m sitting before you now _, Akhkharu_ , then it means Hastur’s wrath has taken form.”

Mattie calmly lifted her chin. “And what was the price that was paid to summon the Stranger?”

“One greater than all of the blood that flows in Inanna’s cursed children.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Your words are harsh. And your presence here could be seen as a threat. Do you mean to blaspheme the blood of my mother? Have we not been allies for countless centuries?”

He smiled thinly. “You speak of blasphemies with the tongue of a careless fool, but we both know that you are no such thing, so I will speak as I speak: without guile.” He slowly leaned forward. “I heard an interesting tale from our loyal representative not over a month ago. Sonoma spoke to me of _Idummu_ Corvae’s death at the hands of one of your sisters.”

Mattie nodded. “The Countess Mircalla Karnstein: daughter of the late seventeenth century.”

“The same girl who carved your mother into pieces with the bright Blade of Hastur,” he stated.

Mattie didn’t know how best to respond. She could either tell him everything or tell him nothing. Information was dangerous, both for herself and for her family, but the Stranger wasn’t likely to believe in her ignorance. “She was the child our mother buried alive for seven decades of silence. When she was finally free to take her revenge, she swore death on our mother and all who stood with her.”

His fists tightened. “Why wasn’t she killed?”

“There were some who believed she _had_ been. I was told that her wounds were supposedly quite fatal, but it’s nothing I was able to confirm myself. She went into hiding shortly after the battle some thirteen years ago. Thalia searched for her, but nothing was ever found, and I’m not sure how _hard_ she looked.”

His lip twitched. “Thalia Amonden. Another body on the pyre— is that correct?”

Mattie nodded. “The Board of Governors learned of it the same day we discovered Corvae’s remains.”

His long fingernails scraped against the chair. “And what do you say to this, Matska?”

“The same thing I said to Sonoma over a month ago: that we’ve all underestimated Mircalla.”

The Stranger slowly leaned back in his chair. “Yes. Your words are succinct. But they are _nothing_ to the furious anger of the Gods over the sacred ruins of my temple...”

Mattie went cold. “What do you mean?”

His lips curled into a snarl. “Fires and explosives were set beneath the stone of the Great Drowned Cathedral. The holiest of holies was reduced to rubble, and all of my sons have been silenced. Sonoma’s body was blown to pieces with the entire foundation of Hastur's gate.”   

Her fingers dug deep into the flesh of her palms. “How on earth is that possible?”

His features twisted into something so cruel, she briefly thought he might strike her.

“My sons…” he hissed beneath his breath, “all of my honored priests… each of their bodies reduced to ash beneath a salted sea. A temple that has existed for _thousands_ of years, carved by the hands of Hastur’s sons, has been leveled to a heap of worthless rock, and you _dare_ to ask me what is _possible?”_ He straightened in his chair. “Do you understand the significance of the sacrilege that has been done? Hastur’s shrine… the blood of my children… all brought low to the dust.”

“I knew nothing of this,” she quietly breathed.

“You would stand before me, pleading ignorance? Was this not the work of Inanna’s bastard child? Your sister by death and by curse?“

“Mircalla and I have been estranged for _years—_ she’s as much of a threat to me as she is to you. And I have no earthly idea how she discovered your temple nor how she found the means to destroy it.” She paused for a moment. “But this I do know… She is driven by an anger we don’t understand. Our lives are _both_ in danger, _Utu Sarrum_. This won’t end with the blood of your sons.”

The room fell silent. The Stranger’s featured shifted to a mask of cold indifference. “You’re right, _Akhkharu_ Matska— your life _is_ in danger. As are the lives of all your kin.”

She felt the blow across her back a second after she heard them coming. Her body fell fast and hard to the floor as the monks swiftly surrounded her. Mattie scrambled to a kneeling position before a blade stopped at her throat. There were three of them trained on every side of her neck, ready to sever it in an instant.

Mattie froze. Her gaze circled the monks before it landed decisively on the Stranger. She watched as he calmly stood from his chair and slowly began walking towards her.

Mattie sneered as he placed a hand beneath her chin and tilted her face towards him. His jaundiced gaze was hard and terrifying; it was utterly devoid of any emotion. “I don’t care what drives or motivates this insignificant worm Inanna buried in the ground. I’m going to tie her to her funeral pyre before I slowly pull her body apart. The only thing that concerns me now is whether or not to kill the rest of you. A price must be paid, Belmonde Matska, so perhaps we should start with the blood in _your_ veins.”

He dropped her chin and callously turned away as the monks reformed their circle. Mattie’s eyes darted in every direction before she threw all caution to the wind.

 _“Ina Sebet Iksuda Adannu Elu!_ ” Mattie violently hissed.

The Stranger stopped.

The monks seemed to pause as if bidden by some unseen command.

The Yellow King turned back to face her with a cold, curious look. The circle parted so that Mattie could fully see him, but their blades stayed poised near her throat.

“What words are these?” he darkly asked.  

 _“Yyr Hadron Akalum,”_ she whispered _._

They stared at one another for a tense, fractured moment before she softly began to speak the words:

“We sing the song of seven lands in Nanshe’s fertile fields  
Where stood Her seven son’s and daughters, bathed in sacred blood  
So went Hadron, mortal clay with conquering sword and fire  
There he stole each sacred heart to feast and fine devour  
With flesh made God, he called upon the Old in Earth and Hell  
Rising! Rising! Rending all of Nanshe’s fertile fields  
To seal the fates upon his lips with blood of ancient heart  
To turn the world and call the damned with outstretched hand and arm  
Made to madness, formed to fury, bound by burning fire  
He vanquished all the seven lands and reaped the conquered harvest  
Sewn to stars, God and demon sang the Hour Rising  
Rising! Rising! Never more in Nanshe’s fallen fields.”

Nothing more was said for the space of several awful minutes. Mattie’s stare was hard and unwavering as her neck pressed against the edge of a blade.

The Stranger’s eyes glowed in the darkness as he tilted his head to the side, no doubt attempting to weigh the significance of the words she'd just imparted. “Why do you sing me this, _Akhkharu?”_

“Because it has already begun. Corvae? Thalia? Both of their hearts were taken, and you can be certain my mother’s was as well.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You have proof of this?”

“I have Corvae’s remains in a fridge and a forced confession from the man who burned Thalia’s body in Sardinia four months ago.”

He smirked derisively. “A symbolic gesture.”

“Was it?” she quietly asked.

They continued their careful study of one another, and Mattie allowed a smile to grace her lips. “Look carefully, _Awil Hastur;_ you’ll find more than ashes in the wake of Mircalla’s revenge. And you _know,_ as well as I do, that the old, unspoken prophecies were more than just songs and stories. What if Mircalla took Inanna’s heart before she tossed her body into the pit? What if all of this ‘senseless’ destruction was meant to conceal a darker truth? Thalia was burned before anyone knew her heart had been clawed out of her body, and when we found Corvae, he’d been so _violently_ mutilated, you could barely tell his heart was even missing.” She leaned back on her heels. “If your temple was destroyed... if she killed your favored sons... then it was all to draw you out into the open so that Mircalla could kill you too. Remember, _Utu Sarrum:_ you’re one of the four keeper’s of Inanna’s Sacred Flame. Mircalla wants your heart as well, and you’ve just played right into her hands.”  

The Stranger said nothing. Mattie could only guess at the thoughts churning darkly through his mind. The man wasn’t a fool, and the truths that she’d spoken were far greater than his own personal grievances. Perhaps he would kill her for her frank impertinence, but Mattie was far from caring. She was a Priestess of Inanna and one of the oldest living vampires. If she was going to die a second death, then to hell with Hastur and all of his subjects.

He clasped his hands behind his back and slowly began to circle her. Mattie watched his slow progression, ever mindful of the blade at her throat.

“If what you say is true, Belmonde Matska, then where was she hoping to find me?”

“Who can say?” Mattie breathed. “Her traps have been carefully planted, and I can’t even begin to guess her next move.”

He nodded slowly. “Then perhaps it is time to shift the fates in our favor. The Gods have allowed her vengeance for a time, but I think that hour has ended.”

He stopped in front of her once again. Mattie straightened her back.

“You will bring her to me,” he flatly stated. “You will bring her back to Silas.”

Mattie scoffed. “And how would you propose I do  _that?_ I don’t have the faintest clue where she is. And even if I did, or had some way of contacting her, what makes you think that she’d trust me?”

“You are her blood. You speak for the Goddess. But these are not my concerns. I will have the vampire Mircalla, or I will have _your_ head and the heads of all of Inanna’s children.” He raised his hand, and the blades were pulled back in a swift, soundless movement. The monks retreated, clearing a space around her, and Mattie slowly got to her feet.

She straightened up to her full height and cast them all a withering look. “What time do I have?” she spoke with sharpness.

“As long as it takes, _Akhkharu_.”

“She won’t go down easily,” Mattie warned. “There is already power in her yet.”

“Then I hope to drink a toast to my sons with the bastard blood in her veins.”

He grabbed her neck in the flash of an instant and held her in a hard, painful grip. Mattie gasped as she clutched at his hand, but her strength was lacking by comparison. She refused to look away as he brought their faces together, his lips drawing nearer to hers. She could smell the rank stench of his breath as it blew past his sharp, blackened teeth.

“You will bring her to me,” he softly stated, “and I will _show_ her vengeance. The ancient prophecies will be buried with what remains of her bones after I've dined on her flesh.”

He carelessly released her and turned to leave the room without another word. The rest of his guard silently followed, trailing behind him blindly through the darkness.

Mattie pressed a hand to her throat as she watched them slink out into the night. “ _Mircalla…_ ” she cursed beneath her breath. _Mircalla… what have you done?_

\----

Danny gave the door another series of vicious knocks before she stepped back to glare at it angrily. She’d been standing on the doorstep for the last three-and-a-half minutes, waiting impatiently for someone to come and answer it. She knew that LaF and the others were in there; she could hear music playing in the background. It was Christmas morning, but she was damned if she was going to leave without speaking to Laura first.

Finally, she heard the click of several locks before the door eventually swung open. LaFontaine was standing there, wearing a blank expression and wrapped in a strand of blinking Christmas lights.  

“Lawrence,” said LaF in a monotone voice, looking wholly underwhelmed by Danny’s presence.

Danny wasn’t exactly in the mood for pleasantries either. “I’d like to see Laura. Could you tell her I’m here?”

“Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah to you too. And Hollis isn’t here. But I’d be happy to send you home with some gingerbread cookies that JP poorly frosted last night.”

Danny was trying not to lose her patience. She took a calming breath and tried again. “It’s Christmas morning. Where would she have gone? I just tried her apartment, but the spare key is missing and she isn’t answering her door.”

“That’s because Laura isn’t _here._ We haven’t seen her since she left over a week ago.”

Danny frowned. “What do you mean you haven’t seen her? Her dad said she was going to London with the three of you.”

LaFontaine stared at her. “This isn’t London.”

“Yeah... I _know_ that, genius. I was _hoping_ to catch her before you guys left. I just found out that she never went home to Canada.”

LaFontaine slowly blinked at Danny like they were staring at a helpless imbecile. “Laura went to London, but it wasn’t with us. Thank you for dropping by, and Happy New Year.”

Danny stopped the door with her hand before LaFontaine could shut it. “What in the heck are you talking about? Why is she in London? And why didn’t any of you go with her?”

LaF looked up at the hand on their door as if silently considering how to remove it. “I’m sorry… Is there a reason you’re asking me this? I mean... didn’t you guys break up?”

Danny clenched her jaw in annoyance. “We’re on a _break._ We’re working some stuff out.”

“I see...” said LaF with another dull expression. “You should probably talk to Hollis when she gets back.”

“That’s not good enough. And I’m not leaving without an answer. Why aren’t you in London with Laura?”

“If she hasn’t told you, then it isn’t your business, Lawrence.”

“I’m _making_ it my business, Frankenstein. Her dad thinks she’s spending the holidays with the three of you and that _clearly_ isn’t the case.”

“How do you even know this? Did Sherman call you and tell you?”

Danny felt her skin turning red. “I texted Laura a few days ago to wish her Merry Christmas. She never responded to any of my messages, so I was obviously a little concerned. I called her dad to ask how she was doing, and he told me she wasn’t in Canada. He said she was really upset about our breakup and had booked a last-minute trip with the three of you.”

LaFontaine smirked. “You’ve gotta love her.”

Danny had finally reached her limit. “Would you _please_ just tell me what in the hell is going on? What are you hiding from me, LaF?”

LaFontaine sighed. “I hate to break it to you, Lawrence, but Laura’s off in London with someone else. Someone who obviously isn’t _you_ if she’s lying to her dad about it.”

A cold wave of sickness flooded Danny’s stomach. “What? Who? Who is she with? Is it a girl? Is it that whore who was flirting with her a month ago? What’s her name? What did she look like?”

A new pair of voices could be heard in the apartment heading in their direction. Laf looked back with a tired glance, and Danny considered breaking down their door.

“What _is_ this?” said a voice that was distinctly JP’s. “Sparkling white grape juice? _Really?”_

“You’d better get used to it!” Perry laughed while playfully scruffing up his hair. The pair stopped short when they saw Danny in the doorway, hovering over LaF with an enraged expression.

“We have a visitor,” said LaFontaine cheerlessly, giving their companions a weary look.

“Danny...” said Perry, a little caught off-guard. “Merry Christmas! Can we get you something to eat?”

“She’s here for Hollis. And I’ve already offered her a plate of the gingerbread monstrosities.”

Perry and JP exchanged a look, and he took a healthy swig of his grape juice. “Oh. Well... Laura’s out of town. We’re not sure when she’s going to be back,” said Perry simply.

“Who is she with?” Danny insisted, looking back and forth between the three of them.

JP decided to head back into the kitchen as Perry tucked a curl behind her ear. “I think she said she was traveling with a friend. We haven’t actually met her.”

“And does this ‘friend’ have a name?”

“We didn't ask,” said LaFontaine acerbically.  

“Are you _serious?_ You just allowed her to go bouncing off to London with some girl you don't even know?”

LaFontaine glared. “We don't _allow_ Laura to do anything because Laura is a freaking adult. She tells us what she wants to tell us and we trust her to make her own decisions. And I know this sounds crazy, but we’re actually not that interested in the sordid details of your love lives.”

Danny was fuming. “I don’t have time for this! Who in the _hell_ did Laura go to London with?”

“I think I may be able to answer that, fräulein,” came a voice from somewhere down the hallway.

All of them turned to see a spindly old gentleman approaching them with an unsteady gait. He had evidently emerged from a nearby apartment, but he wasn’t one of the tenants Danny recognized.

“I’m sorry?” she said, her confusion evident.

He smiled as he leaned on his cane. “Forgive me, dear girl. Please allow an introduction. My name is Cornelius Hans Albrecht, Lügenbaron von Vordenberg, and I have every reason to believe that your young Miss Hollis has been taken and seduced by a vampire.”


	13. Revelations

“Wait… _what?”_

The old man smiled ruefully. “A vampire,” he calmly repeated to Danny, “the unsavory fiend of popular lore. A fanged demon who dwells within the shadows and feasts upon the blood of the living. The very creature who now, at this moment, is preying upon Fräulein Hollis.”    

Danny glanced at LaF and Perry, wondering if this was some kind of joke. LaF raised an eyebrow in sudden interest while Perry looked like she’d just been slapped.

“Um… okay?” said Danny slowly. “And why exactly would you think that?”

“Because I have been _hunting_ this particular vampire for the last five decades," he replied. He reached into his vest and produced an antique fob watch that was hanging from a tarnished gold chain. He also took out a threadbare handkerchief and started to clean the watch’s case with it. “I take it you are Miss Hollis’s girlfriend?”

“Yes,” said Danny at the same time LaFontaine answered with a very decisive “No.” The two exchanged a look of subtle annoyance before LaF decided to speak up. “So...uh... can you back up for a second? I think I’m kind of lost. Who are you exactly and why are you hanging around my favorite neighbor’s apartment?”

“Your concern for the girl is to be rightly commended,” he said with a gentle nod. “And I happen to be the last surviving member of the once great House of Vordenberg. It is a line that has endured for countless centuries in the war against the forces of evil. My forefathers were the earliest defenders of humanity: hunters of the accursed _nosferatu._ I have chosen to carry that legacy forward, which is why I am standing before you today. The trail of death has led me to this doorstep, and I fear your neighbor’s life is in serious danger.”

Danny wasn’t sure if she needed to book a flight to London or contact the nearest lunatic asylum. The old man was obviously a few crackers short of a cracker box, but even the _thought_ of Laura in danger was causing her to panic.

LaF, on the other hand, remained generally unruffled. “So you’re like a mix between Buffy and Giles?”

“If you’d like,” he said with an austere smile. “Though the vampires I hunt are more formidable.”

“Okay. Just… hold on,” said Perry hastily. “This is all getting _wildly_ out of hand. Sir? You seem like a very nice person, but we’re just a little bit skeptical about your… interest in Laura.”

“My presence may be cause for some discomfort, my dear, but I can assure you my intentions are honorable. I even had the pleasure of meeting Fräulein Hollis some weeks ago before she disappeared from Silas. It must have been the evening of Saturday the 12th if my memory serves me correctly. I had hoped to _warn_ her that the girl she’d been seen with was far more dangerous than she realized.”

LaF seemed skeptical. “Laura never mentioned you.”

“Nor would she be inclined to, I suspect. We were both ‘interrupted’ before I was able to formally introduce myself.”

“I’m sorry...” Danny cut in, “I think I’m still back on the whole ‘Laura’s been seduced by a vampire’ thing. Let’s pause on the questionable stalker-like behavior so he can attempt to explain _that_ one to me.”

Vordenberg seemed unphased by their attitudes. “Your skepticism serves nothing and no one. Disbelief in the supernatural is one of the enemy’s greatest weapons: a veil to confuse those they prey on.” He slowly began to wind his watch. “The creature I hunt is not human. She is a _monster:_ borne from the blackest pits of hell where even the vilest of devils would dread to go.”

“Sounds intriguing,” said LaF mildly. “So does your vampire have a thing for tiny Canadians? Like, the bubbly and ridiculously adorable variety that love chocolate-chip cookies and watching cat videos?”

“LaF...” said Perry in a warning voice.

“What? I’m just asking questions. I find it kind of amusing that ‘a demon spawned from hell’ would want to take Hollis out on coffee dates.”

“You _knew_ about that?” said Danny accusingly. “You know she was seeing that girl behind my back?”

“Calm your tits, Xena... it was coffee with a friend. Or maybe a demonic vampire according to this guy.”  

Vordenberg opened the case of his watch. “Would this be the girl you are referring to?” He turned it over, revealing a faded picture of a girl that Danny instantly recognized.

“That’s her…” she said with startled confusion, taking the watch from his hand. It certainly _looked_ like the girl Laura was necking with, but there was something a little strange about her appearance. Maybe it was the hair, or her vintage-looking clothes. Nothing about the photo felt contemporary. “Where did you get this?” she quietly asked.

“It was taken over forty years ago.”

Danny looked up at him. His expression remained stoic. “You are staring at a picture of Mircalla Karnstein: a former countess born here in Styria in the year of 1680.”    

Perry gave a nervous laugh. LaFontaine just looked intrigued. JP had finally decided to join the group, covered in powdered sugar and looking cheerful.

“Hello! Is this a new tenant?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” said LaF. “Jeep? This is the Baron Something-Something Vordenberg. He's a dude who claims that Laura’s been seeing a vampire.”

JP’s gaze wandered around the group. “I’m sorry? A… a what?”

“A vampire. Like the Count from Sesame Street. Her name’s… uh…”

“Mircalla Karnstein,” Vordenberg finished for them.

Danny’s gaze narrowed in confusion. “Laura said that her name was Carmilla.”

“Heh… it’s an anagram,” LaFontaine mused while staring vacantly into space. When everyone turned to look at LaF, their expression suddenly turned blank. “What? Mircalla... Carmilla... it's not that hard. Who knew anagrams were a staple of vampire lore?”

“There's _no_ such thing as vampires,” said Perry with a sharp, agitated look. JP had taken the watch from Danny, and Danny was getting close to her breaking point.

“Look! I don't care if her name’s Princess Unicorn or if she’s the freaking spawn of the Devil! My concern right now is whether or not Laura is in London with a potential serial killer.” Danny suddenly rounded on Vordenberg. “What do you know about this girl? And what in the hell does she want with Laura?”

“That’s what I intend to find out.”

He held out his hand to JP for the pocket watch. JP carefully returned it to him. Vordenberg absently wiped down the case before pocketing it in his vest once again. “You've no doubt seen the reports in the news of various murders aground Silas. Mircalla’s work has its own brutal signature. I have seen it before many times.”

Danny went cold. Her heart-rate accelerated. “You have proof she was involved?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” he smiled, then nodded towards the apartment he’d just emerged from.

They all followed his gaze down the hallway. The door to the apartment was still open. A frightening chill crept down Danny’s spine, coiling around her veins and leaving her paralyzed.  

“Come,” said Vordenberg a little too encouragingly, “please come and see for yourself. I wasn’t the only one who followed the vampire’s trail to Fräulein Hollis’s doorstep.”

His words were ominous. Nobody dared to move until LaFontaine eventually broke the silence. “Well then...” they said, “nothing brightens a Christmas morning like meeting the folks who’ve been stalking your next-door neighbor.”

Danny didn’t say anything. Fear was consuming her thoughts as she slowly began to walk down the hallway.

Laura wasn’t in Silas.

Laura was being stalked.

Everything about this was horribly wrong.

She could hear the others following closely behind her and was surprisingly grateful for the company. The old man was dangerous, for good or for ill, but Danny needed answers and needed them fast.

Shadows were moving visibly across the floor, suggesting there were others inside of the apartment. She could also hear the sound of muffled voices the closer she got to the open doorway. When she rounded the corner and stepped towards the entrance, her heart suddenly caught in her throat. Even from here, she could clearly see what looked like the remnants of a gruesome murder scene.

Blood stains were scattered all over the room. It was like stepping inside of an old slaughterhouse. The carpet was smeared with copious streaks of gore that had stained the cream-colored fibers a reddish brown. The walls were sprayed with dried, mottled flecks of it, and it had even splattered up onto the ceiling. There weren’t any bodies, at least that Danny could see, though she shuddered to think what might have been left of them.

This wasn’t just the scene of a murder. This had been an all-out massacre. The dread that she’d felt became infinitely more terrible as the smell of the place invaded her senses. She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. She tried to say something, but couldn’t speak. Her mind was racing, but it could only focus on one thing...

This had happened right across from Laura’s apartment.     

“Jeep?” said LaFontaine numbly behind her shoulder. “Take Perry back home and lock the door. I think I left a stack of waffles on the table that probably need to go in the fridge.”

Danny glanced back and noticed just how pale the red-headed scientist had become. LaF was standing directly behind Danny, blocking JP and Perry from seeing inside.

“Sweetie?” said Perry with a look of uncertainty, and she reached down to take LaF’s hand.

“Just do it, Perr!” said LaF more forcefully, tightening their hand around Perry’s. They gave JP an anxious look, and JP slowly nodded his head. He pulled Perry away and covered her hands with his. It looked as though they were trembling.

The two headed back in the direction of their apartment as Vordenberg stiffly approached. The smile he’d worn earlier was gone from his face. His expression was cold and darkly severe.

“Perhaps I should have warned you,” he said in a somber voice, “the vampire’s work is not for the faint of heart. My associates and I were hoping to gather evidence without disturbing the other residents of your building.”

“Your associates?”

Danny turned to focus on the others in the room. She hadn’t been paying much attention to them. They were similarly dressed in brown leather jackets with a strange-looking symbol on their sleeves. Some were taking notes, others were taking pictures. Two of them were engaged in conversation. A few of them looked like they were hitting their late forties, though others looked like they were fresh out of high school.

“We are the Order of the Morning Sun,” said Vordenberg, brushing past Danny, “a society that was founded hundreds of years ago by my tenth great-grandfather, Ulrich Durs Vordenberg. Brave men and women fought under his banner against the forces of darkness. There was no race or creed or country to name them. All were equal before God.” He turned to Danny with a narrow expression. “The war goes on, Fräulein Lawrence. Brave men and women continue to join our cause who wish to see evil wiped from this earth.”

Danny stared numbly at everyone in the room. For the most part, they were all ignoring her. She glanced back at LaF, who maintained an uneasy expression, and they both stepped awkwardly into the apartment.

“Who was here?” LaFontaine asked. “I thought this apartment was empty.”

“We suspect they were agents of a larger syndicate who have been tracking Mircalla’s interests here in Silas. Karnstein has no small reputation; she’s made enemies in every corner of the world. Unfortunately, her insistence on keeping company with Fräulein Hollis has made the girl a target for her enemies.”

Heat started pooling in the pit of Danny’s stomach. It was beginning to thaw the chill in her spine. She clenched her fists so painfully tight, she could actually feel her knuckles beginning to crack.

“What more have you learned?” said Vordenberg directly to a man kneeling down on the carpet. He was a brutal looking character with a closely shaved head and tattoos wrapped around his neck.

“Twelve days old,” the man gruffly replied in a thick Scottish accent. “I’d say there were four or five in the room, but Willemijn should have better numbers for you.”

Vordenberg nodded. “And what of our Caller?”

The man’s lip curled into a sneer. “Bitch must have ripped every one of their throats out. Believe me... you don’t want to see the bedroom.”

Vordenberg’s mouth twisted into a frown as he turned to an older woman walking towards them. “Did Belmonde leave us anything?”

“Not much,” she stated, “though the space was cleaned out pretty sloppily. The bodies and all of the surveillance equipment were packed up six or seven days ago. Building management was paid to gut the apartment, but it’s hard finding contractors around the holidays.” She gave him a wry smile. “We’re lucky we got in before they tore up the carpets and started repainting. I’ll be able to run the DNA tests, but I doubt we’ll find anything promising.”

His frown deepened. “How many where there?”

The woman cast a guarded look at Danny. “Three in the living room, two in the bedroom. I think _somebody_ wanted to send Matska a message.”

“Bathroom’s clear,” came a voice down the hallway— a voice that Danny faintly recognized. She turned at the sound and saw a tall girl approaching them, blonde hair swept neatly into a ponytail.

“Elsie?” said Danny, unable to hide her shock.

Elsie gave Danny a small smile. She was almost unrecognizable in her leather coat and gear, but that dry, attractive smirk remained the same. “‘Sup, Lawrence?” said Elsie cooly. “Glad you could finally make it. Sorry your luck with the ladies hasn’t improved, though your taste hasn't improved much either.”

LaF cast Danny a sideways look. “Uh… do you know this person?”

Danny slowly nodded, still taken aback. “She was a Summer Society Sister back in the fall of 2014.”

“Man, was that ever a lifetime ago,” said Elsie, leaning against the wall. “I can’t imagine much has changed since then unless Mel’s finally developed a sense of humor. Tell me... you guys still chasing Zetas naked through the forest or have you finally gotten around to screwing them?”

Danny’s jaw clenched in irritation. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

“Fräulein Neumann pledged her services to our Order some months ago while we were tracking Mircalla across the German countryside,” Vordenberg stated. “She was a victim of the vampire’s deadly seduction tactics, but thankfully survived the encountered with her life. She was able to provide us with significant intelligence that helped us to track Mircalla here to Silas. She has also proven herself a most capable warrior. We would be quite bereft without her services.”

Danny gave Elsie a disbelieving look. “You’ve really bought into this vampire stuff?”

“I don’t have to buy into it,” Elsie responded. “You’re looking at walking proof.” She hooked a finger through the collar of her shirt before pulling it off of her shoulder. It exposed the skin on the left side of her neck, revealing a vicious scar in the shape of a bite mark.

“Dude…” said LaF, sounding vaguely impressed. Danny could only stare in wordless silence. It was too much to process. Vampires? Vampire hunters? She looked up at Elsie in shock.

“Believe what you want,” said Elsie dismissively, “but this? This is bigger than you, Lawrence. There’s some fucked up things going on in Silas, and you don’t have the first clue what you’re dealing with.” Elsie looked at LaF. “You should hop on board, Dexter. We could always use another scientist. Hell,” she continued, looking pointedly at Danny, “we’ve even got room for self-righteous princesses.”

Neither LaF nor Danny had a chance to respond before the tattooed man let out a whistle. “Samples collected— let’s move out of here people! We rendezvous at King Street at 12:00 sharp.”

Everyone picked up and headed for the entrance. Elsie smirked at Danny and turned to leave. Danny tried to speak to her, but Elsie was out the door. She didn’t bother to give either of them a second glance.

“You must forgive our abrupt departure,” said Vordenberg, tucking a hand into his pocket. “We happen to be on a tight schedule today. Evil never sleeps, even at Christmastime.” He smiled as he pulled two cards from his coat, then handed them over to LaF and Danny. “If you’re interested in assisting us, your help would be most appreciated. I speak for myself as well as for young Miss Hollis.” He bowed to them both. “Farewell my friends. I hope you have a pleasant holiday. Pray for your friend’s safe return if you can. Until then, auf wiedersehen.”

He walked out of the room, leaving LaF and Danny to the silence. They looked at each other before looking down at their cards. A sun was stamped in gold foil on the paper, and there was a number etched at the bottom beside a web address.

Danny was lost. She didn’t know what to believe. The earth had been knocked right off its axis. Murder was one thing, but vampires and vampire hunters were a whole mess of hell she wasn’t ready to deal with.

But whoever Mircalla was, or whatever ties she had to Vordenberg, Laura was clearly caught right in the middle of it. And if Danny knew one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was that Laura— _her_ Laura— was in serious danger.

\-----

“Carm, this is _way_ too much!”

“You haven’t even opened it yet.”

“It doesn’t matter! You bought me too many gifts!”

“So what? I’m indulging myself for the holidays.”

Laura tried her best to glare at her. “You’ve been indulging me for the past two weeks. How in the heck am I supposed to keep up with you? The necklace alone must have cost you a small fortune.”

“Small fortunes are made to be lavished on small, beautiful women. Now open the damned gift already before I tie you to the couch and tickle you.”

Laura didn’t think that was much of a deterrent (quite the opposite, point of fact) but she decided to oblige her dark-haired beauty since Carmilla was clearly enjoying their gift exchange.

It was Christmas morning— the first Laura had spent away from her home and family— and she was sitting on the floor beneath a pile of wrapping paper in a beautiful hotel room in Paris. The place was decorated with a few strands of tinsel that they’d purchased only the day before, and Carmilla also surprised her with a tiny, pre-lit Christmas tree while supposedly making a run to a nearby pâtisserie. Laura was so disgustingly charmed by Carmilla’s thoughtful gesture, it was kind of impossible to lament the lack of her favorite Hollis Christmas traditions. But she didn’t need stacks of gingerbread cookies or an evening spent caroling with her relatives. She was celebrating Christmas in the beautiful City of Lights with a girl she was madly in love with.

Laura gave in and started unwrapping her present while Carmilla just smiled at her adoringly. They’d spent the morning exchanging gifts with each other while feasting on cocoa and chocolate croissants. Carmilla was wearing a hideous red Christmas sweater that Laura had purchased for the occasion, coupled with a pair of truly awful pajama shorts that were covered in tiny kittens. She looked adorable, if a bit unimpressed, but she was willing to humor Laura for the sake of the holidays. She’d taken her revenge by casually informing Laura that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Laura, of course, was wearing a Santa hat with a mistletoe fastened to the top of it. Carmilla didn’t need much of an incentive to kiss her, but Laura thought a reminder was always nice.

“Oh my gosh!” Laura laughed when she finally unwrapped her present: a fuzzy pair of socks with little Daleks on them. “Where did you get these?”

“Do you really have to ask? Because every geek shop in London is literally _teeming_ with Doctor Who merchandise.”     

Laura was beside herself. “You bought me Dalek socks.”

“They’ll go well with your new Star Wars hoodie.”

“I cannot believe you bought me Dalek socks.”

“Does that mean that you’re pleased with your gifts?”

Laura grinned as she climbed into her lap and slowly straddled Carmilla’s waist. After draping her arms around Carmilla’s neck, she leaned down and kissed her very thoroughly.

“I love them,” Laura whispered in-between their kisses. “And I love you. Like, really, _really_ love you.”

“Do you indeed?” Carmilla purred as she brought Laura closer against her.

They easily became distracted with some intenselypassionate kissing that included a lot of tongue and a little biting. Laura could taste the hazelnut cocoa that Carmilla had been sneaking out of her mug. A warm pair of hands traveled up Laura’s thighs and slipped up the back of her shirt, and Laura had to wriggle out of Carmilla’s grasp before she could successfully unhook Laura’s bra.

 _“Whoa_ there, lady killer…Let’s put that on hold. You still have another gift to unwrap!”

Carmilla sulked. “I thought that’s what I was doing…” she whined while reaching for Laura’s shorts.

But Laura hastily rolled out of her lap before Carmilla could get any friskier. She was determined to keep this PG-13. “Presents now... smooching later.” She reached under their tree (or more beside it really) for a large, rectangular package. Laura had been saving this one for last, and she was praying that Carmilla would like it.       

“Here,” she said as she placed the heavy package in Carmilla’s empty lap. “In hindsight, I probably should have wrapped the contents separately so you’d have more gifts to open.”

Carmilla gave her a curious look as she started unwrapping her present. Laura fidgeted nervously with her hands. Why was gift-giving always so stressful?

The wrapping paper was quickly torn off, and Carmilla’s hands became still. She was holding a stack of beautiful hardbound books that were some of Laura’s favorites from her childhood: _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,_ Rudyard Kipling’s _The Jungle Book,_ and a well-worn copy of Hans Christian Andersen's _Classic Fairy Tales._  

“So...” Laura blushed, “I know you’re an avid book collector and you probably already have these, but I thought you might like a copy of these editions since the artwork is really incredible. I found them at that crazy bookstore in London. They’re the same ones I had when I was a kid. All of the illustrations are done by the same artist and his watercolors are just… they’re stunning.”

Carmilla gently opened one of the books and began to flip through the pages. She was being unusually quiet, but the gift had obviously affected her. Laura could see the twinkle in her eyes.

Carmilla looked up at her, and Laura had to smile. “Merry Christmas, Carm,” she said shyly.

Carmilla just shook her head in response. “I am so head-over-heels in love with you.”

The smiles on their faces mirrored each others, and they must have looked utterly ridiculous. But it didn't really matter. They were both too happy to care about the love-soaked remains of their dignity.

The two leaned forward to capture each other’s lips in a deep, languid kiss. It was warm and soft and absolutely wonderful and neither of them wanted it to end. The books were leisurely set to the side as the two fell back on the floor, tangling themselves up between strands of tinsel and the remnants of a perfect Christmas morning.

\-----

Laura once thought that she knew and understood what it felt like to be in love with someone. Love, in many ways, had always come easy for her no matter its form or expression. Her parents had given her the best and perfect example of true unconditional love, but the rest just came naturally since Laura was born with a light that needed to be shared with the world. It was just who she was. She never wanted anyone to doubt how much she adored them, and she didn't mind wearing her heart on her sleeve, even if there was a chance it might be broken.

When she’d first felt the wild stirrings of romance, it was almost completely unexpected. She wasn’t sure if that was because the feelings were for a girl or more specifically because they were for her friend. Up until that moment, she’d thought herself above the whole angsty teenage nonsense of the day. Romance wasn’t something she’d pinned her hopes and dreams to, regardless of what all the Disney princesses tried to sell her.  

But then she’d found herself suddenly knee-deep in all of the requisite, squishy feelings of giddy excitement and nervous energy from hugs and stolen kisses. The whispered “I love yous” had come so effortlessly, even if they were said behind closed doors. It didn’t matter if the whole thing was wildly unconventional because there wasn’t an expectation for anything greater.

The rules had obviously changed with Danny, though the squishy, romantic sentiments were much the same. Laura was just allowed to express herself more freely with a girl who was glad to be seen in public with her. It was an honest relationship with pie dates and romance and the happiness of finally belonging to someone. It wasn’t quite as intense as the first time she’d been in love, but she was happier with Danny. Much more comfortable.

So Laura had never wondered if there was more that life could offer her when it came to the simple joys of love and romance. She’d assumed she’d seen it all, so there wasn’t a lot of room for exciting revelations or new discoveries.    

But as Carmilla held her by the banks of the River Seine on a chilly Sunday morning in Paris, Laura knew that she’d never experienced anything as incredible as her love for the girl in her arms. Carmilla was her sun. She brought light to Laura’s life and warmed her with every kiss and searing touch. She made the world beautiful, and Laura wanted to hold her and bask in that light for as long as possible.

Yet her love for Carmilla was more than tender words spoken in the silences between them. It was every sensation captured within a moment, breathing life into her heart and making it soar.

Love was the feel of Carmilla’s hand in hers as they walked side-by-side through the streets of Paris. Carmilla, without fail, would always reach for her hand if Laura was slow to grab Carmilla’s first. It was such a simple thing, holding onto a person’s hand, and yet it felt so unbelievably powerful. It was the unspoken connection: a silent declaration that you belonged to the person standing beside you.  

Love was the sound of Carmilla’s beautiful laughter as they danced with each other above the city lights. Carmilla had dragged her to the roof of their hotel after a late night of drinks at the Café Charbon. The weather that evening had been surprisingly pleasant and both of them were gloriously tipsy; not quite hitting the slurring end of drunk, but definitely at the stage where everything was hilarious. Laura had decided she was well in the mood for romance, so she’d roughly pulled Carmilla against her.  

“Dance with me,” she’d hummed against Carmilla’s lips.

“But there isn’t any music,” Carmilla grinned.

Laura leaned back to coyly bite her lip, then held up a finger in Carmilla’s face. She teasingly reached down into Carmilla’s coat pocket a little more suggestively than was necessary. After successfully locating Carmilla’s phone, she pulled it out with a mischievous grin. She typed in the four-digit password with her thumb, then scrolled down to Carmilla’s 80’s playlist.

“You wouldn’t dare,” said Carmilla darkly.

“Oh yes I would...” Laura smirked. She hit the shuffle button with a most determined stare, and the first few notes of “All Night Long” started playing.

Carmilla stood there, fighting back a grin as Laura broke out into wild laughter. It was just so perfect, and it didn’t take long before Carmilla started laughing as well. They slowly began to dance and spin each other around, neither really sure who was leading. All of the lights that framed the backdrop of the city became a blur under the faint glow of the stars. When the music eventually shifted into the 1986 classic “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel, Laura was certain that every note and ridiculous lyric had been written just for the two of them.

Love was also the taste of Carmilla on her tongue as she explored the different contours of her body. It was a silken sweetness that was frighteningly addictive and fast becoming a constant craving. Laura used to think she had a pretty healthy sex drive, but Carmilla was turning her into a hedonist. She had mastered the art of skillfully pleasuring Laura like a musician with a perfectly-tuned instrument. Her lips and fingers could play every tendon and awake every curve beneath her hands. Her stamina was also every bit as remarkable during their endless hours of lovemaking. It was all Laura could do to keep up with her sometimes when Carmilla was feeling particularly amorous. There were days when they couldn’t be bothered to leave the hotel room, much less their four-poster bed.

But it wasn’t just the sex. It was the moments leading up to it that thrilled the blood coursing through Laura’s veins. Moments like Carmilla pressing open-mouthed kisses against her as they stumbled into their hotel room during a rainstorm. They’d been soaked to their skins, both frantic and fumbling in a desperate attempt to tear each other's clothes off. Then Laura was guiding Carmilla into the shower so she could push her up against the wall. The taste of Carmilla became cool droplets of rain still clinging to Carmilla’s overheated skin. It was rich and heavenly and nothing could ever compare to Carmilla whispering her name in the throes of passion.

Further still, love was the sight of Carmilla soundly asleep in Laura’s bed, curled onto her side in a tangle of sheets with a peaceful look on her face. It hadn’t come easily: their first few nights together had proven that Carmilla rarely slept. Laura would often wake, and Carmilla would softly smile at her before quietly telling Laura to go back to sleep. It didn’t take long before Laura finally decided that this was totally unacceptable, so she’d resolved to use her feminine wiles to lure Carmilla deep into the realms of slumber.

“Carm?” she’d muttered softly and sleepily. “I need you to go to bed.”

“I will, cupcake,” Carmilla whispered. “Close your eyes and I’ll be right behind you.”

Laura gently shook her head as she shifted closer to Carmilla’s body. “Mmm-mmm. I’m not gonna go back to sleep until I hear you snoring.”

Carmilla was amused though unwilling to concede. “You’re not gonna last that long.”

Laura groaned. “I never see you sleep.”

“I told you I don’t sleep, cutie.”

But Laura had learned precisely what it took to get everything she wanted out of Carmilla. She pressed a loving kiss to Carmilla’s chest and wrapped her arms around her. “Please?” she said. “Would you please go to sleep for me?”

“Laura—”

“I know that you’re scared.” She nuzzled closer to Carmilla’s neck. “You don’t have to be. I’m right here.”

Carmilla hesitated. She seemed torn between fear and the gentle, persistent warmth of Laura’s mouth.

“What if I dream something terrible?” she quietly asked.

“Then I promise to wake you up.”

Neither of them said another word. Laura breathed in and waited patiently. Her hand slid over Carmilla’s beating heart and pressed down on the swell of her breast.

When Carmilla finally closed her eyes and gradually drifted off into sleep, Laura made a vow that she would spend every night giving Carmilla something beautiful to dream. Whatever was haunting her, real or imagined, would soon become a distant memory...

And love was the scent of Carmilla on her pillow in the waking hours of every morning.  

\-----

They stayed in Paris for an entire week; much longer than either of them had anticipated. There had been some talk of traveling to the south of France, but they were content to stay where they were. Paris had afforded them plenty of diversions on the days they could make it out of their hotel room, and traveling significant distances seemed highly problematic when they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.      

So they walked the Tuileries Gardens and climbed the Eiffel Tower and shared kisses on the Pont Alexandre III Bridge. It was all the standard touristy stuff, but Laura loved every blessed minute of it. Notre-Dame was incredible. The Louvre was unbelievable. The Musée d'Orsay left her breathless. They attended a performance of _La Damnation de Faust_ , and Laura was actually moved to tears.

The foods they ate were nothing short of exquisite, as were the wines Carmilla selected for them. Laura tried to protest all of these lavish expenditures, but Carmilla flatly refused to argue the point with her. “We’re in France, sweetheart. You’d better damn well believe that I’m only going to be sampling the _finest_ cuisines.” She’d made this statement with an incredibly suggestive look that Laura couldn’t possibly have misinterpreted.     

And truthfully, it didn’t take a _whole_ lot of twisting to get Laura on board with the fine dining. She’d been indulging herself on every pastry known to man and all to the great misfortune of her figure. She tried to stay on top of that by resuming her morning yoga, but it was kind of impossible with Carmilla hovering around the room. Laura’s stretching had a way of distracting her roommate, but they _did_ end up burning quite a few calories.

All in all, Paris had been perfect. Laura couldn’t have asked for anything greater. The city was amazing and so was Carmilla and Laura was just so stupidly in love. And yes, Carmilla still insisted on spoiling her, but it was hard for Laura to be upset about it. Carmilla was a hopeless, unrepentant romantic, and Laura was more than happy to be her muse.  

But it wasn’t always box seats at the Palais Garnier or bottles of ludicrously expensive champagne. There were quieter moments where the two could savor each other in the simplistic beauty of the mundane...

\----

“...‘The first question, of course, was how to get dry again: they had a consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had known them all her life…’”

Laura was resting against Carmilla’s chest, eyes closed and a smile on her face. She was listening attentively as Carmilla quietly read to her, loving the gentle inflections in her voice.

They were happily soaking in a freestanding bathtub in the center of their spacious bathroom. The water was perfect, and the two were snuggled together without a single inch of space daring to separate them. Weak, midday sunlight filtered into the room, lighting the wisps of steam off the water. A chilled can of Bad Wolf and two long-stemmed glasses were resting on the floor beside the tub.

“...‘Indeed,’” Carmilla continued, her fingers tracing patterns along the sensitive slope of Laura’s belly, “‘she had quite a long argument with the Lory, who at last turned sulky, and would say, “I’m older than you, and must know better.” And this Alice would not allow without knowing how old it was, and as the Lory positively _refused_ to tell its age, there was no more to be said.’”

Carmilla was silent as she gently nudged Laura, prompting Laura to turn her head and look up a bit. Carmilla was holding the book out in front of her, waiting patiently for Laura to take it. Laura smiled and reached over the tub for a towel to dry off her hands. Once she’d sufficiently wiped off the water, she carefully took the book from Carmilla and found where she’d last left off.  

“...‘At last,’” Laura began, and she felt Carmilla pressing a trail of kisses down her neck and along her shoulders, “‘the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of some authority among them, called out, “Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! I’ll soon make you dry enough!”’”

\-----

And so time moved forward. Every day was a new discovery and a chance to fall deeper and deeper in love. It was the warmest winter that Laura could remember no matter how freezing the temperatures were.

They ended up celebrating New Year’s in Amsterdam, then decided to spend the weekend up in Norway. Laura thought it would be exciting to see the Northern Lights on the other side of the Atlantic for a change. The weather looked clear enough to accommodate her request, so Carmilla found them a vacation rental in Troms. A few days spent in relative seclusion sounded wonderful after weathering the city crowds.

Their journey to Tromsø was surprisingly enjoyable despite the flight delays and missed connections. Carmilla made her happy no matter where they were, and they passed the time with card games and shameless flirting. Secretly, Laura had to admit that she was happy to be getting Carmilla all to herself. Not that she’d been _sharing_ Carmilla with anyone, but watching others flirt with her was getting tiresome. It was infinitely more insulting when said flirtations occurred when Laura was standing _right_ beside Carmilla. She got a lot handsier with Carmilla during these moments, which was probably why Carmilla got such a kick out of them.   

And Laura knew she was being silly and irrational. Carmilla was a beautiful girl. Anyone with eyesight would naturally want to flirt with her or at least give her a long, appreciative look. But she _belonged_ to Laura, as terrible as that sounded, and it was difficult for Laura to hide her insecurities. She tried not to be jealous, but Carmilla had a way of making her downright possessive most of the time.

Carmilla, on the other hand, made _no_ attempt to hide just how fiercely possessive she was when it came to Laura. Even a smile from a passing stranger had her growling and turning instantly territorial. She’d nearly assaulted a drunk English couple that Laura met at the hotel bar in Amsterdam. The pair had been incredibly friendly that night, and Laura was being friendly as well. It wasn’t until they invited her up to their hotel room that Laura finally realized what was happening, and it was both the best and the worst time for Carmilla to show up and place an arm around her shoulders.

With this in mind, it was probably a wise idea to rent a cabin as far from civilization as possible. It would give them an excuse to stay wrapped up indoors without anyone else competing for their attention. Laura was content to trade the lights of a bustling city for the star-filled skies of the Arctic, and besides... a little seclusion with plenty of hot cocoa seemed like the perfect way to start off the new year.

\----

A fire was roaring brightly above the hearth, heating up the room rather exquisitely. It was early evening, and the skies beyond their windows were painted in the ethereal colors of the aurora. Laura and Carmilla were lying on the rug beside the open fireplace, naked and spent after some exceptionally fantastic sex that left them on the happier side of exhausted.

They’d spent the morning chasing each other along the sunless Lyngen coastline, pelting each other with fistfulls of snow and tackling each other into the snow banks. They’d hiked around the Lyngen Alps and even tracked a small herd of reindeer, but a desire for food and warmer temperatures prompted an early return to their cabin. Laura made pancakes (a famous Hollis recipe), but the food preparation was slightly hindered due to Carmilla’s frequent molestations and highly distracting kisses along her neck. Laura tried to feign her annoyance, but it was obvious she was loving the attention. Dessert was a bottle of Eileen Hardy Chardonnay paired with a variety of carnalities in front of the fireplace.      

Laura was draped across Carmilla’s body with a blanket covering everything below her waist. Her muscles felt useless in the most glorious way possible, and she breathed in a sigh of contentment. Carmilla was lightly scratching her back, and Laura was melting like a chocolate bar. She honestly didn’t know if she’d ever been happier— a sentiment she’d considered more than once these past few weeks.     

“Stay with me...”

Laura’s breathing suddenly stilled. She opened her eyes and leaned up a bit. She thought she’d imagined the words at first, but the look Carmilla was giving her suggested otherwise.

“Hmmm?” Laura softly responded. “Did you just ask me to—”

“Stay with me.” Carmilla was looking intently into her eyes, and the firelight was gleaming in her stare.

Laura was silent. A part of her couldn’t believe that Carmilla was really asking her this. The great discussion of “What Happens When We Return to Silas?” was one they’d been putting off for a while now. Laura had always assumed she’d be the first one to bring it up, so hearing Carmilla say it was a little surprising.

“Stay?” said Laura.

“With me,” Carmilla replied. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Laura smiled warmly at Carmilla. “I want to be with you too.”

“Then come away with me. I’ll take you anywhere. Anywhere and everywhere you want to go.”

Laura tried to think of what to say. This was a _bit_ more direct than she was expecting. She slid beside Carmilla so they were lying on their sides, but they kept their arms loosely around each other. “That sounds incredible... but it’s not really practical. I’m about to start my second semester of college.”

“You can study abroad. Do your degree overseas. You don’t have to go back to Silas.”

Laura almost laughed. “With what money, Carm? Need I remind you that I’m a starving college student? And just because my _lover_ happens to be independently wealthy, that doesn’t mean I’m going to live off of her savings account.”

“Why not?” Carmilla insisted. “What good does the money do me if I can’t invest it in someone I really care about? I want us to have a future together, Laura, and it’s too dangerous for me to stay in Silas with you.”

Laura bit her lip. “Because of the murders?”

Carmilla clenched her teeth for a moment. “Yes,” she said with some reluctance. “Amongst a number of other reasons.”

Laura closed her eyes and sighed. “You know, there’s a lot you haven’t told me.”

“I know,” said Carmilla, brushing a few strands of hair away from Laura’s face.

“And I’m trying, Carm. I’ve been trying to be patient because I know you’ve been through a lot. But if we’re _really_ going to build a future together, then at some point you’re going to have to trust me.”

“I _do,”_ she said with perfect sincerity. “And I want you to trust me as well. I love you, Laura... and you deserve to know the truth. I don’t want to hold anything back from you.”

Laura exhaled. “You'll tell me everything?”

“Everything,” Carmilla said. “We’ll talk over a couple of cold Abita beers at some cheap hotel in the French Quarter.”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “The French Quarter?”

“In New Orleans,” Carmilla said.

“You want me to go to New Orleans with you?”

“I want you to go everywhere with me.”

Laura propped her head in her hand. “You sure don't make things easy, do you?”

“Well that depends on your definition of _easy,”_ Carmilla said with a smirk.

“Ha ha _._ But _you’re_ not the one having to justify any of this to my dad.”

“Meh... I think I could smooth things over after charming Mr. Hollis for a weekend.”

Laura’s heart began to wildly flutter. “You…You want to meet my dad?”

Carmilla shrugged. “I’m not opposed to the idea. After all, I _am_ defiling his daughter.”

Laura scoffed as she reached for a nearby cushion and thwacked Carmilla across the face with it. Carmilla just laughed. “What?” she said innocently. “You don’t trust me to make a good impression?”

 _“No...”_ said Laura with a teasing smile. “It’s just… I wasn’t sure if you _wanted_ to meet him. This whole thing is kind of new for us both and… I didn’t want to make any assumptions.”

Carmilla reached up to caress her cheek, giving her a look of pure devotion. “You still don’t get it, do you? You’re rewriting the rules for me, Hollis. Hell, I’d meet the Pope if you wanted me to.”

Laura chuckled. “That would be kinda cool, but I don’t think you really need to worry. I come from a split line of Methodists and Lutherans, so meeting the Pope would just be a novelty.” She leaned up and rested her chin in her hand. “Still… any excuse to visit the Vatican.”

Carmilla smiled. “So it's Italy then?”

“Ugh… you’re not going to give up on this, are you?”

“Nope,” Carmilla cheerfully responded, “because I always get my way.”

“I think that’s highly debatable, Ms. Karnstein.”

“I just had my way with you four times.”

Laura huffed as she rolled onto her back. “You are so unbelievable.”

“I know. I heard you panting something similar about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh my gosh. Full of yourself much?” said Laura, blushing profusely.

Carmilla laughed as she slid closer to Laura. “I can't help it. You bring out the beast in me.”

Laura gave her a mischievous look. “That would certainly explain all of the bite marks.”

“Hey...” said Carmilla, looking mildly offended. “Don’t even pretend like you don’t love it.”

Laura sighed as she ran her fingers softly through Carmilla’s hair. “What am I going to do with you, Carm?”

“You can do anything as long as I’m yours.” She gazed intently down at Laura. “I love you. Come and travel the world with me. You can study history right where it was made. We’ll explore it all together.”

Laura slid her lip between her teeth. It felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff again. “What if we get tired of living out of suitcases?”

“Then we’ll settle down and find a place where we can stay.”

She smiled at Laura, beautiful and adoring. “What do you say, cupcake? I promise to make you smile every day of my life. It’ll just be you and me in love.”

Laura didn’t have to say anything. Her smile was all Carmilla needed. They stared at each other with hopeless adoration, like the stars were written in each other’s eyes.

Laura brought Carmilla’s face down to her’s for a heady, passionate kiss that couldn’t contain even a fraction of the happiness that Laura felt in that moment. She wanted to remember this feeling forever as a sacred, tangible memory: Carmilla whispering promises of a future that she hoped to share with Laura. And Laura wanted that future more than anything; there wasn’t a single doubt in her heart. She would follow Carmilla to the ends of the earth as long as Carmilla was hers.   

Their kissing grew frantic as Carmilla moved on top of her and wrapped Laura’s leg around her waist. They were far too eager to take things slowly when their happiness was threatening to smother them both. Every sigh was a song to be cherished as they pulled themselves closer together. Their hands were insatiable. Their mouths were relentless.

And this?

This was love.

\----

Stormclouds were gathering in the skies overhead, promising another day of heavy snowfall. The Silas campus was relatively empty with only a few humans wandering along the footpaths. Mattie watched them through the windows in her office, but she wasn’t expressly focused on any one of them. It was a gray afternoon, cold and listless, and it suited Mattie’s mood rather perfectly.

Her assistant was talking. She’d been talking for ages. Mattie was barely listening. The girl’s information was utterly useless: a list of dead-ends and pointless conjectures.

“...Miller’s report claims she could have met with a munitions expert at some point during her stay in Sussex, but if she purchased the explosives from one of her private contractors, it might be difficult to pinpoint the original source…”

Mattie tuned her out. Her mind was spinning restlessly around the frame of every unanswered question. There was nothing she hated more than her own wretched ignorance, and none of this was making any sense.

The game had been set. The pieces were all laid out in careful anticipation of the coming attack. Mattie was an expert at outmaneuvering her opponents; all it took was some clever positioning around the chessboard. Her best people were scouring the coast of France for a trail that had gone cold in Normandy. She’d even set up checkpoints around Silas’s main transit areas and  most of the neighboring cities in Styria’s borders. Word had spread of the Hasturmenchen massacre in the darkest, deepest corners of the underworld, prompting even the Stranger to rear his hideous head after 583 years of seclusion.

So where was Mircalla? Why in the hell was she holding back? What was the little monster patiently waiting for? If all of this was part of her damnable plan for vengeance, then why was she still in hiding? Why the silence?

“...Ms. Belmonde?”

Mattie tilted her head to the side. She’d clearly been lost in her thoughts. “Sorry— could you repeat that last bit again?”

“What would you like me to tell Strygia’s people?”

Mattie sighed. “Be vague but reassuring. I haven’t decided if I want to involve her in the finer details.”

“But if the Yellow King has already made contact with her—”

“Then that’s _his_ prerogative. Not mine.” Mattie continued to stare idly out of the window. “Try not to fret too much, Madeline. Despite our present troubles, the Board and I remain allies. Our interests are still aligned for the good that will do us.”

It was clear that Madeline didn’t agree with her. “They’ve already threatened your life.”

“Alliances are often formed with a little threat and intimidation— particularly when you’re dealing with gods and monsters.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest. “Strygia is going to stay in hiding. If my sister’s on a killing spree and targeting the Board of Governors, she would be smart to sit back and let me handle it.”

Her assistant let out a tired breath. “I wish I had your confidence.”

“I’m sure you wish you had my charm as well.” She turned to look at Madeline. “So... Was that everything? Or were there other exciting intrigues I should be made aware of?”

Madeline casually adjusted her glasses. It was her telltale sign of anxiety. “I... spoke to Simon last night while taking minutes at Weyland's committee meeting. He said he’d received a phone call from your younger brother while you were in Wolfsberg over Christmas.”

Mattie raised an eyebrow. “Really? A call from William?”

Madeline gave a slight nod. “He wasn’t happy. I wasn’t able to get all of the details, but apparently he’d just discovered that your sister was in Silas.”

Mattie slowly began to pace the room. “Did this have anything to do with Paolo’s mess?”

She nodded again. “It was a little too close for comfort. The Order hasn’t been very subtle in their investigations.”

Mattie eventually stopped her pacing. “Why didn’t he call me himself?”

“Well.... If I had to guess, it’s probably because he wants to stay out of it. You two didn’t exactly part on the friendliest of terms.”

Mattie felt her jaw muscles constricting. She hadn’t been this vexed in quite a while. Her back was rigid, and she was in something of a killing mood. A little blood on her fangs sounded tempting.

“Does William know about the Hollis girl?”

“He does now,” Madeline sighed.

“And did he have any requests or parting comments of note?”

“Yes,” she replied. _“‘Stay away from him.’”_

Mattie huffed at William’s choice of words. She didn’t care for his attitude one bit. Perhaps her little brother needed a gentle reminder of who was swinging the scythe in the family these days.

But just as the thought quickly flitted through her mind, another suddenly formed to take its place.

Dear, sweet William…

One of Mother’s fondest pets.

The once trusted guardian of all of her secrets...

A small spark lit behind her eyes, and Mattie felt a smile forming on her lips.

To hell with this. To hell with all of them. She’d been playing on the defensive for far too long.

“Call off the search teams,” said Mattie decisively, turning to look directly back at Madeline. “Send word to Miller that we no longer need his services. Accounting can draft up an invoice for what he’s owed.”

Madeline looked shocked. “We’re... calling off the search?”

“Yes. I want our people back in Silas. We’re going to maintain our checkpoints at all of the transit areas. That includes Graz International and the central railway station.”

Madeline typed the instructions into her tablet. “Duration?”

“Until I say otherwise.”

The girl hesitated. “But what if the Hasturmenchen—”

“The Hasturmenchen are _not_ your concern.”

Madeline avoided looking at her. “It’s not myself I’m worried about,” she said in a quiet voice.

Mattie softened a little. The girl was getting too fond of her. She hoped she wouldn’t be forced to kill her at some point.

“The Stranger has given us time,” said Mattie reassuringly. “So we’re going to use it to our advantage. Mircalla will find her way home, just like she always does, but this time we’re going to give her a _proper_ welcome.”

Madeline bit her cheek.“How can you be sure of that?”

“I can’t,” said Mattie succinctly. “But what fun is playing the game if you’re unwilling to take a risk with some of your favorite pieces from time to time?”

Her assistant didn’t reply. Mattie turned back to the window. “There’s one more thing I need you to do for me. My mother owned a number of properties here in Silas; some were odd little safe-houses or secluded hideaways.” Mattie rubbed her fingers together. “I need you to find every one of them. Scour the entire city if you have to. Place a detail at each location with 24-7 surveillance. You have 48 hours to get it done.”

She could hear Madeline rapidly typing into her tablet. “And do you have any instructions regarding your brother?”

“Perhaps,” said Mattie as she watched the snow beginning to fall. “I think it’s time we started planning for a family reunion.”


	14. The Return

The front door creaked open, permitting faint, grey sunlight to creep into the darkened entryway. The house was silent; cold and vacant. All that could be heard in the morning stillness were the muted sounds of the forest.     

Carmilla walked Laura slowly through the entryway, carefully guiding her backwards, hands at her waist. Laura’s arms were wrapped around her neck and her fingers clung loosely to Carmilla’s coat.

They were smiling like idiots, hopeless and lovesick, and neither of them could take their eyes off each other. Laura rested her forehead against Carmilla’s as Carmilla shut the door with her foot.

They were back in Silas. They’d arrived at 5:30am on a red-eye flight from Frankfurt. A long, sleepy car ride from Graz International brought them to a beautiful, secluded cottage in Sommer’s Canyon. It was at least half a mile from the main summit highway that wound through the northern Styrian mountains. Most of the canyon was covered in snow. Apparently, it had been snowing in Silas for days.

A frozen breath escaped Laura’s lips, hanging visibly in the air between them. They both closed their eyes and drank each other in like lovers lost somewhere in time.

Laura was exhausted. Happy, but exhausted. They’d been traveling non-stop since yesterday morning. All that she wanted was a nice soft bed and Carmilla lying completely on top of her.

She felt Carmilla smile. “I should go and get the bags.”

Laura shook her head.

“It’s not that far of a walk to the car, cutie.”

“We’ll get the bags later,” Laura murmured.

Carmilla sighed, eventually leaning down and lifting Laura easily into her arms. “I knew I should have booked us a later flight today. You are _impossible_ to deal with when you haven’t slept.”

Laura hummed, snuggling up to Carmilla’s neck. “Don’t you mean I’m impossibly cute?”

 _“Impossibly…”_ Carmilla whispered as she held Laura closer on a slow ascent up the staircase.

It felt good to be home— Home, of course, being safely wrapped in Carmilla’s arms. Laura supposed she was also glad to be back in Silas even if they wouldn’t be staying for very long. Life was moving forward. Unknown adventures awaited them on the not too distant horizon. But for the here and now, she just desperately wanted some sleep and a nice, warm body tucked beside her.

The cottage itself was an old family property that belonged to one of Carmilla’s distant relatives. Laura was thrilled that she’d asked to bring her here since it was more or less where she’d been living for the past few months. There was so much intimacy laced with the suggestion, like Carmilla was inviting Laura into her sanctuary _._ Sure, it wasn’t a _home,_ but it was something hidden and beautiful that Carmilla obviously wanted to share with her.

The exterior of the place had a darkly wooded aesthetic that blended together beautifully with the forest. Laura might have enjoyed her own private tour had she not been so bone-achingly tired. The long, weary hours spent waiting at random airports were definitely starting to catch up with her; it didn’t help that traveling meant a distinct lack of privacy and a lot less cuddling with her girlfriend.

Carmilla managed to flip on the overhead lights as they entered a simply furnished bedroom. It was cold and clean. The faint scent of candle wax and pine trees lingered in the air. A beautiful king-sized bed was laid out before them to the left of a large bay window. Laura smiled. She could hardly wait to bury herself under a mountain of thick, fluffy blankets.

She slowly sank into the soft, green bedspread when Carmilla laid her gently on the mattress. Carmilla kissed her temple. Her cheek. Her lips.

Laura was very reluctant to let her go.

“Here,” she whispered against Laura’s mouth. “Let’s find you something comfortable to sleep in.” They smiled at each other, a little lost and in love, then Carmilla slipped away towards one of her dressers.

Laura sighed as she watched her companion begin sifting through various drawers in search of clothing. “Hmmm... That’s a first.”

“What’s a first?”

“Encouraging me to wear anything to bed,” Laura smirked.

Carmilla chuckled. “It’s going to take me a little while to get this place warmed up. And as much as I absolutely _love_ getting you naked, I don’t want my cupcake turning into a popsicle.”

Laura stretched her arms over her head. “You could always just warm me up yourself...”

“Don't tempt me, cutie. If I get in that bed, the _last_ thing I’m going to want is sleep.”

Laura suppressed a grin. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Depends on how tired you are.”

“Carm, we’ve been up for the last 24 hours. Even _you_ could use some rest.”

Carmilla managed to unearth some sweatpants and a shirt from one of the drawers. “I’d rather get started on our freshly minted ‘to-do’ list while _you_ get some much needed sleep.” She tossed the clothing onto the bed beside Laura before heading over to the fireplace. “I don’t want to waste any more time here than we have to, especially if the weather gets bad. There’s still some people I need to see and a few accounts that I need to close before we can go and get your stuff packed up. Once that’s done, we’ll be off to Canada and you can keep me in bed for as long as you want.”

Laura sluggishly reached for the shirt. It had an illustrated print of an octopus on it. “I really can’t tempt you to nap for a few hours?”

“Not if you want me back here in time for dinner.”

Laura sighed. So much for her seduction tactics. Then again, she _was_ really tired. She could hardly fault herself for failing to entice Carmilla when she was functioning on 20% energy.

She got up and started unbuttoning her coat, her movements slow and lethargic. Carmilla was already stacking wood in the fireplace and stuffing it with paper to use for kindling.  

“You’ve spoiled me, you know,” Laura mumbled as she shrugged off the rest of her clothes. “I can’t remember the last time I had to sleep alone... minus the times you like to sneak off during the night.”

Carmilla looked at Laura with a curious expression. “And here I thought I was being stealthy.” Her gaze happily raked down Laura’s underwear-clad body as Laura stepped carefully out of her jeans.

“I’m clingy, babe, and you’re my primary heat source. Of _course_ I’m going to notice.”

“Well then... I’ll try to be a little more discreet the next time I get up for a midnight snack.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “You’re the only person I know who has to snack at 3:00 in the morning.”

“It’s all your fault. You leave me _ravenous_. What's a poor, famished girl supposed to do?”

Laura chuckled as Carmilla resumed her work on lighting the fire as quickly as possible. They fell into an easy, companionable silence that four weeks of traveling together had afforded them. It was simple. Comfortable. Like they’d been doing this for years instead of a few blissful weeks in each other’s company. Still, it would have been disingenuous for Laura to assume that there wasn’t something weighing on Carmilla’s mind.

She watched Carmilla reach for the matches on the shelf, her profile cool and intense. It was a look Carmilla got when she was consumed with her thoughts, an expression both focused yet sadly distant.

Laura could hardly blame her. Hadn’t they just committed themselves to a serious relationship with each other, never mind that they were uprooting both of their lives in the process so they could potentially build a new one together?

Laura quietly tugged on her sweatpants and tightened the drawstrings around her waist. Eventually, she decided to give voice to her thoughts:

“Hey... You don't have to pretend, you know.”

Carmilla went still. She set down the matchbox and looked up at Laura with a guarded stare. “What do you mean?”

Laura lightly shrugged her shoulders while bunching up the t-shirt in her hands. “You don’t have to pretend you aren’t scared about a lot of this— about asking me to be a part of your life. That you haven’t second-guessed your decision to bring me back here, and…”

Laura didn’t know how to finish her thought.

Carmilla didn’t immediately respond. They just stared at each other, quietly searching for something. Laura was the first to break the connection as she slipped Carmilla’s t-shirt over her head.

The pleasant scent of wood-smoke slowly enveloped the room as the fire eventually began to spark to life. The flames crackled and smoldered beneath the stacks of wood, effectively disturbing the surrounding silence.  

“Have you?” she said quietly.

Laura turned to look at her. “Have I what?”

“Been harboring any doubts about the future?”

Laura wet her lips. She felt inexplicably nervous, like the truth was even more shocking than she’d realized.

She calmly shook her head. “No,” she said simply. “I know that I probably should, but I don’t.” She watched something flicker across Carmilla’s gaze, even if her expression remained unreadable. Laura took a few steps closer to her companion. “I guess I’m just… well. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being ridiculously naive, but this is the first time in my life I’ve ever been _sure_ about something. And that’s not to say I’m not scared about our future or what’s going to happen to us in the long run, but as long as I’m with you, it... it honestly doesn’t matter. I know what I want, Carm, and it’s you. Every leap of faith I’ve ever taken since I’ve met you has been nothing short of incredible. But I know that it’s different— it’s different for you, and I’d honestly understand if you’re worried.”

Carmilla was silent. The way she was looking at Laura was charged with so many conflicting emotions. There was wonder, vulnerability, concern and desperation— heightened by love and even something resembling fear.

Carmilla stared into the fire for a moment, slowly rolling her tongue behind her teeth. “I’m worried about a lot of things,” she said a bit distantly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not sure that I want you here with me.”

“I know,” said Laura, rubbing a hand along her arm. She offered Carmilla a smile, hoping it was enough to soothe her fears.

She slowly turned around to head back towards the bed when she felt Carmilla suddenly press up against her.

A strong pair of arms held Laura around her torso as Carmilla buried her face in Laura’s neck. “I love you,” Carmilla whispered breathlessly into her skin. “I _need_ you, and I don’t need anything else.”

Laura grinned, placing her hands on Carmilla's arms and loving how their warmth enveloped her skin. She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that.”

She felt Carmilla chuckle. “Well I certainly hope not because I’m never going to get tired of saying it.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a softy? All of that brooding and leather is just a cover up.”

“Lies,” Carmilla whispered, pressing a kiss against her neck. As always, her mouth felt incredible.

“You’re a softy,” Laura smirked, exposing more of her neck to Carmilla’s lips.

“I should bite you for suggesting such nonsense.”

Laura laughed as she gently pulled away from her. _“_ You need to reign that in, missy. There’s no way in heck I’m introducing you to my dad if my neck is covered in hickeys.”

“Why do you think we live in northern climates? To make expert use of scarves whenever necessary.” She watched with interest as Laura unclasped her bra and slipped it off from beneath her shirt.

“I know _exactly_ what you like to use scarves for, Miss Karnstein, and we’re not going to be doing that at my dad’s house.”

“So what you’re _really_ saying is you want to go somewhere warm so you can show off as much skin as possible.”

Laura gave her a pointed look, pulling the blankets back on the bed. “Is that your subtle way of telling me you don’t want to go to Canada?”

“Not at all,” Carmilla replied, bringing Laura around to face her.

Their chests were suddenly pressed close together as Carmilla held her tightly around the waist. Her hands slid up just beneath Laura’s arms so she could lift them to rest on her shoulders. “I just thought it might be fun to head somewhere south after our little expedition to the Arctic. Maybe a nice secluded beach in Bora Bora where I could _finally_ get you into a bikini.”

“Oh, I see your game...” Laura smirked, her eyes flicking down to Carmilla’s lips. “You’d fly a girl halfway across the world just so you could take advantage of her.”

“I could take advantage of you _anywhere,_ cupcake, but a private beach could be fun...”

“Drinking piña coladas and going skinny dipping at midnight?”

“Mmmm, now you’re getting the idea.”

They smiled at each other, sensual and devilish before slowly leaning in for a heated kiss. Carmilla’s mouth was warm and wet and it’s softness was doing things to Laura’s heart rate.

Nothing… absolutely _nothing_ would ever compare to this. Laura could be kissed by Carmilla forever. It didn’t matter how tired or worn-down she was; she _needed_ Carmilla. Needed her like air.

She felt Carmilla’s hands tracing the muscles along her back with fingers that knew Laura in intimate detail. It made Laura shiver, forcing her to lean back a bit before Carmilla could unravel her completely.

Laura took in a shallow breath as she pressed their foreheads together. She couldn’t help it. She was already unraveling...

And _fuck,_ it felt so damn good.

She pulled Carmilla close, as close as she possibly could, as a profound feeling of love welled up in her breast.

She loved this girl.

Loved her with everything, and it was never, _ever_ enough.

“Sometimes I feel like I can't get you close enough,” she whispered against Carmilla’s lips.

Carmilla tightened her hold around her waist. “Then keep pulling me closer _...”_ she said breathlessly.

They kissed again with raw, unfettered passion, tugging each other closer with aching need. The softness of each kiss was suffused with ravenous hunger that rolled against the tips of their tongues. Laura’s body melted against Carmilla’s in all of her favorite places, and as Carmilla moaned against her, Laura quickly realized that she was desperate for something other than sleep.

She sucked in a breath as Carmilla moved down her neck to taste the heated skin at her throat. Her hands slid up to tangle in Carmilla's hair. “I don't want you to go,” Laura whimpered.

Carmilla’s response was a frustrated breath. “I promise _..._ I _promise_ I won't be gone long. Just get some sleep and I’ll be back in a few hours and then you can do _whatever_ you want to me...”

Laura shook her head as she kissed Carmilla again. _Later_ was still too far away. _“Please,_ Carm,” she whispered, “please just stay a little longer? At least until I’ve fallen asleep?”

Carmilla groaned, having lost all of her patience. “You can’t ask me for things that you know I’ll never deny you.” But she was already frantically shrugging off her coat and walking Laura backwards towards the bed.

Laura's mouth slid below Carmilla’s ear. “Are you mad at me?” she teased, gently biting it.

“I am absolutely _furious_ with you,” Carmilla growled as her mouth latched onto the skin near Laura’s pulse.

Laura couldn’t hide the smugness in her grin as she pulled Carmilla down onto the bed with her. 20% energy and she _still_ managed to seduce her. That had to be some sort of record.

“I promise to make it up to you,” she whispered hotly, wrapping her very flexible legs around Carmilla’s waist.

“Oh, you’re going to,” said Carmilla in a slightly menacing tone as she practically tore the shirt off Laura’s body.

So much for getting clothed before going to bed.

But it hardly mattered when Carmilla was heating everything beneath her searching hands, her mouth and tongue dragging along the length of Laura’s abdominal muscles. She sucked in a breath when Carmilla found her breast and slowly began to nurse the tender flesh. She closed her eyes and sank back into the mattress, pulling Carmilla as close to her as possible.

“You still don’t know what you do to me…” Laura breathed.

“I know what I _want_ to do to you.” As if to emphasize her point, Carmilla gently bit down on the sensitive skin just below Laura's navel.

Laura could hardly breathe. “You’d better—you’d better be careful or you’re going to wear yourself out.”

“Oh, no I’m not...” said Carmilla, pulling her own shirt off. “Not if I wear you out first...”

\-----

It was well past one o’clock in the afternoon by the time Laura eventually woke up. After five-and-a-half hours of uninterrupted sleep, it was safe to say that Carmilla had done a masterful job of _thoroughly_ wearing her out.

She opened her eyes with sleepy effort, dragging her senses from the blissful haze of a deep, dreamless slumber. After a few slow blinks, she shifted onto her side and let the warmth of Egyptian cotton caress her skin.

A tired glance up at the clock on the nightstand revealed it was 1:16pm, a little bit later than she’d planned to sleep in for but not _so_ late that the day was already wasted.

Laura groaned as she stretched out her limbs, savoring the little ‘pops’ in her back and joints. It was still slightly disorienting to wake up in a strange bedroom after four straights weeks of constant travel.

Twisting beneath the blankets, she managed to turn her body so she was facing the other side of the bed. Predictably, it was empty. Carmilla must have snuck off after Laura passed out from sheer exhaustion.

The thought made her smile. Her lover’s daring escape must have required some ninja-like stealth. The last thing Laura remembered was collapsing on top of her after they’d spent whatever was left of Laura’s energy reserves.

But now she was alone and in desperate, aching need of a warm body cuddling up beside her; specifically a body that belonged to a gorgeous girl who had mastered the art of epic back-scratches.

Laura’s head fell back on the pillow with a loud, disappointed _thump._

She missed Carmilla already.

Waking up to a bed without her was like waking up to a morning without the sunrise.

They'd barely been apart since the first night they’d slept together and neither of them were particularly inclined to change that. Laura had dealt with enough loneliness in her lifetime to appreciate what it meant to have found her ‘someone.’

And Carmilla was hers: wholly and completely. But more importantly, she was Carmilla’s. They welcomed every morning, every _minute_ they were together tangled up in the warmth of each other’s love.

For Laura, it felt like fate had brought them together through some dark act of divine providence. It just felt so _right—_ like this was everything she’d ever been searching for without realizing she was even searching for something in the first place.

She stared listlessly at the woodgrain on the ceiling, her thoughts gradually shifting in a different direction.

She knew there were issues that they still needed to work through… Secrets that had yet to be revealed.

Being back in Styria was also problematic given Carmilla’s varied history with this place. Sure, Silas was dangerous, but Carmilla’s reasons for leaving were still a little ambiguous, all things considered.

Their decision to stay at the cottage was also partially motivated by fear of a possible threat to Laura’s safety. Carmilla had said she wanted to steer clear of Laura’s apartment until she could be “100% certain that it was safe.”

It was an unsettling comment; one that Laura had questioned when they started making plans to return to Styria.

“You’ve been seen with me,” Carmilla had muttered, “and that’s made you a potential target. But you don’t need to worry, cutie. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Laura wanted to argue that her statement was ridiculous since it was kind of impossible _not_ to worry about it, but she was obviously getting used to Carmilla’s vague answers, hoping that her patience was eventually going to pay off.

But she trusted Carmilla. Trusted her implicitly. And if Carmilla said she was safe, then she was safe.

After all, there was no way in Hell or Hogwarts that they would have come back here if that wasn't the case.

She slowly sat up and placed her hands on the bed behind her. It was probably time to get up. There were things she needed to do and people she had to contact since they weren’t going to be in Silas for very long.

In some ways, she’d expected to feel slightly more conflicted about her decision to leave Austria for the great unknown. On paper, the whole thing seemed certifiably _insane;_ specifically the part about uprooting her life at a moment’s notice. Silas had been her home for a little under a year now, and there were people here whom she’d dearly come to love.

But she hadn’t been lying when she’d said she’d follow Carmilla anywhere. Even if it meant to hell and back.

Laura rubbed her neck and swung her legs over the bed.

The first order of business was finding a bathroom. Then it would be taking a ridiculously hot shower so she could get back to being a functional human again.

Her feet hit the rug as she pulled herself up, and  the movement left her slightly disoriented. The room was dark since Carmilla had taken the liberty of closing the floor-length curtains over the windows. Judging by the smoldering embers in the fireplace, she'd also added more wood to the fire to keep Laura warm while she slept.

The thought made her smile. Carmilla was surprisingly thoughtful when it came to the little things like that.

Laura was also pleased to see their suitcases on the floor. Carmilla must have brought them in while she was sleeping. Laura would need to do some laundry at some point later today since all of the clothes in her suitcase were pretty disgusting.

She easily found the bathroom connected to the master bedroom and blinked once she’d turned on the lights. There was a large stack of towels and some toiletries by the sink as well as a note written in Carmilla’s impeccable handwriting:

_Good morning, beautiful (or afternoon more likely)_

_Hope I didn’t wear you out too much. ;)_

_I’m about to head out. I have my phone if you need me, but I should be back in time to feed you dinner. Don’t get into the wine until I get back._

_I miss you already._

_Love, Carmilla xx_

Laura smirked. _Gads, what a sap._ How was it even possible to keep falling in love with her? That’s when Laura noticed a scribbled drawing on the back of the paper: a cat wearing a bowtie surrounded by hearts.

_Yep. Definitely still falling in love._

Laura’s shower was brief— another significant departure from the last few weeks she’d spent with Carmilla. It was amazing how efficiently Laura could wash herself without Carmilla’s naked body around to distract her. That wasn’t much of a consolation, unfortunately, since she missed not only Carmilla’s presence, but the feeling of her fingers sliding along her scalp as she lovingly washed Laura’s hair for her.

Laura sighed. It was an overwhelming thought, how falling in love could transform the simplest, most mundane things in life. Waking up alone and showering by herself had honestly never felt more depressing.

After stepping out of the steam and wrapping herself in a towel, she headed into the bedroom in search of clothing. She shivered slightly since the room was cooling down without the added help of the waning fire.

There was a moment when she considered getting into her suitcase in the hopes of finding something clean enough to wear, but she was slightly more interested in raiding Carmilla’s wardrobe for something less lived-in and more... Carmilla.

She opened a few drawers and found some comfortable looking jeans, a plain white v-neck, and a pair of underwear that looked significantly more sinful than practical. She was intrigued by some of the clothing that was hanging up in the closet. Carmilla owned stuff that could have easily dated back to the 60’s.  

Once she was sufficiently toweled off and dressed, she decided it was time to do some exploring. They had been too… busy that morning for a proper tour, and Laura had some time to kill on her hands.

She found her necklace on the nightstand beside the bed and carefully slipped it back on, twisting around a few of the diamond pendants so that everything was correctly facing forward. She grinned when she saw Carmilla’s coat on the floor— the one she’d worn earlier that morning. Laura tugged it on for a little extra warmth, loving the scent of Carmilla that lingered in the fabric.

She cautiously opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The place was empty and silent, just as expected. There was only one other door across the hall from Carmilla’s bedroom, and when Laura tried the handle, she found it locked.

Shrugging, Laura quietly headed down the staircase where she was likely to find more accessible points of interest. The cabin was pretty large and rested on a significant amount of acreage; the perfect setting for Laura’s investigative instincts to take over.

Briefly, Laura wondered if she should wait for Carmilla’s return to start snooping around the rest of the property. But that could be more than several hours away, and if Carmilla was upset about it, Laura knew just how to make it up to her.

She walked through an open doorway that led into the living room. It was a beautiful if not sparsely decorated setting. Spaces that would ordinarily have been cluttered by rustic knick-knacks were home to some of the most stunning artwork Laura had ever seen. The paintings could easily have cost more than her entire apartment— and that included everything in it. Still, the room’s aesthetic didn’t lend itself to a particular character that could easily be defined above its gilded, immaculate surface.

There was a narrow bookcase framing the opposite wall with an assortment of colorful hardbacks on its shelves. Laura approached it with a grin on her face, curious to see what sorts of books the Karnstein’s collected. Laura’s father used to jokingly tell her that if she _really_ wanted to get to know someone, the best way of doing that was by finding out what they read. (Or, as was often the case, if they even bothered reading at all.) Laura and Carmilla had a mutual passion for books and had discussed them on more occasions than she could remember. It was one of the first things that had attracted her to the dark-haired beauty, her endless thirst for knowledge and new discoveries.

Laura studied each of the titles carefully. Poetry and philosophy books seemed to make up the vast majority of them. There were also several discourses on history, science, and architecture written in a variety of different languages. Classics such as Tolstoy, Austen, and Burroughs were visible in addition to the scholarly texts. She carefully removed an older copy of _Resurrection_ and, sure enough, it was a first edition. She returned it to the shelf as delicately as possible, careful not to tear the fragile binding. As her gaze continued to move downward, her smile grew even wider. Carmilla had all seven copies of the _Harry Potter_ series.

“Angsty wizard prodigies, eh Carm?” said Laura, quietly laughing.

She was going to have to tease her about this later. Preferably after buying her a Slytherin scarf.

There was a beautiful grand piano in an adjoining alcove that immediately caught Laura’s attention, it’s black lacquer surface shimmering in the sunlight near a window looking out over the forest. Carmilla had mentioned that she played a variety of instruments during one of their earliest conversations. It was hardly unexpected given Carmilla’s other accomplishments, but Laura still found the idea pretty... intriguing   

Okay. Fine _._ She had a _thing_ for the piano even if she’d never admitted it to anyone. Laura grew up with a profound love of music that easily extended to talented (and beautiful) musicians. There was something so inherently sensual about the idea of Carmilla sitting here, playing music in the sunlight; perhaps a selection from Sibelius or Gounod or Rachmaninov— all the different composers they used to talk about.

Laura’s fingers lightly brushed over each of the ivory keys. She imagined Carmilla’s fingers pressed down on top of them, moving just as skillfully as they did on Laura’s skin.

She shook off these thoughts as she continued her tour of the house— at least the rooms that were openly available to explore. There wasn't much in any of them that could identify Carmilla’s presence here, nor any of her relatives for that matter. No photographs stood in frames on the mantelpieces, no trinkets or personal effects were on display. Everything was immaculate and coldly impersonal, like she was walking through a sterile museum.

Laura reminded herself that she shouldn’t have been surprised. Yes, this was where Carmilla had been living, but it obviously wasn’t her home.

Home was something they were going to build together; something _more_ than beautiful paintings and mahogany bookcases.

Laura’s stomach loudly rumbled. She rubbed it with a furrowed brow. When was the last time she’d had anything to eat? There was that packet of biscuits she’d had on the plane, but that was several hours and two countries ago.

She quickly made her way into the kitchen and opened up Carmilla’s fridge. There was nothing inside of it apart from a few wine bottles and what looked like an expired box of soy milk. Again, Laura told herself not to be surprised. Carmilla had been gone for weeks, after all. Sadly, the kitchen cupboards were in much the same state. There wasn’t even a box of half-eaten cereal.

Laura caught sight of a package of cookies on the counter and could only assume that Carmilla had left them for her. It was a sweet gesture (and they _were_ some of her favorites) but right now, she needed something more substantial.

Laura looked out the window. There was a market at the base of the canyon that they’d passed maybe four or five miles back. Unfortunately, it was probably a little too far for her to walk to, especially if the weather was disagreeable.

With a slim hope in mind, Laura headed out of the cottage and into the bright light of the afternoon. The air was brisk but not at all unpleasant. Maybe taking a walk wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

She headed down the steps onto a small stone path still covered under a thin layer of snow. A beautiful rock garden wound along beside it that was overgrown with plants that had turned to mulch. The path eventually led her to a small, detached garage that was hidden beneath a curtain of pine trees. There was a door on the side of it that had been left slightly ajar, and Laura decided to go inside and have a look.

The garage was dark and filled with various car parts, tools, and what looked like a vintage motorcycle. It seemed a bit more lived-in than most of the rooms in the cottage, and Laura could only infer that Carmilla spent a lot of time out here.

She glanced behind the door and her face lit up in surprise. A mountain bike was hanging on a wall rack. There was also a pump and some other miscellaneous equipment strewn across a table covered in dust.

Laura checked the pressure in the tires as a smile spread across her face.

The road down the canyon _was_ pretty clear...

Maybe a scenic ride to the market was in order?  

\------

The man watched the girl ride her bike out of frame on the dimly lit screen before him. The scene was replayed at least six times in a row so that every discernible detail could be captured.

“Go back to the footage at o’ nine hundred,” he said, running a finger over his chin.

The network specialist typed in the command and another image popped up on screen.

The face of the cottage came into view with a black BMW parked in front of it. After a few seconds passed, the door to the cottage opened, revealing the figure of a dark-haired young woman.

Slender frame...

Maybe 5’3...

52 to 53 kilograms...

The camera resolution was pretty poor in quality, making it difficult to discern most of her features.

They watched as she moved towards the back of the car and easily removed two large suitcases. She collected a few more things from the vehicle’s interior, then turned to head back into the house.

“Fast forward to the next exit,” he muttered coldly.

The network specialist complied.

After a ten minute time jump, the woman appeared on screen again, striding purposefully towards the driver’s side of the vehicle.

“Pause there,” he directed, and the frame suddenly stopped on a somewhat-blurry profile of her face. The image wasn’t perfect, but the likeness was close enough.

A bead of sweat formed on his upper lip.

“Get me Graz on the phone,” he quietly ordered, “and tell Madeline to wake up Belmonde.”

The specialist turned in his chair. “You really think it’s her?”

“I’m almost 90% certain.”

\------

“I’m not kidding, you guys: the whole place— the whole _building_ was an entire complex of finely-tuned insanity. I’m talking ‘Agents of Shield’ fused with some grimdark aesthetic housing an underground society of demon hunters. And that isn’t some colorful embellishment either— I’m talking folks who _literally_ hunt demons like vampires and werewolves and all of that crazy shiz we grew up watching in old horror movies.”

LaF was slumped into the cushions of the couch, nursing a lukewarm bottle of Voelkel. They’d been subjected to Danny’s rambling since she’d barged into their apartment without warning or any pretense of an invitation. Perry was painting by the window in the living room, doing her best to distance herself from the conversation. She didn’t look happy. Her features were pinched and irritated as she kept retouching portions of the canvas. JP, for his part, sat hunched at the kitchen table, staring intently into the woodgrain, his face a scowl. He’d barely moved and hadn’t spoken a single word since Danny showed up on their doorstep.

Curiously enough, this was becoming a recurring event: Danny in their living room, pacing and venting. Ever since the group’s unsettling introduction to the Baron Vordenberg, it seemed Danny was incapable of staying away. She just couldn’t quiet her mind: thoughts of Laura’s body lying dead in a hotel room in London were constantly tormenting her, and there was no sensible way for her to silence these fears without setting up a permanent watch at Laura’s apartment building. Like it or not, her best chance at finding Laura was by working (albeit reluctantly) with Laura’s friends. It was proof, at the very least, that Danny was willing to do anything to get Laura back home to her, safe and sound.  

“So you just walked in there,” said LaFontaine dully. “You grabbed a name badge and took the guided tour.”

“I needed answers. Hell, _we_ needed answers. So yeah, I took them up on their offer.”  

This sort of exchange was becoming common as well: LaF and Danny arguing over what in the hell they should be doing, typically with Danny wanting to mount an offensive strategy and LaF dismissing everything that Danny suggested. They rarely (if ever) agreed on anything, particularly in regards to whether the Order could even be trusted. LaF liked to call it “maintaining a cautious perspective” while Danny liked to call it “wasting our time.” Laura’s safety was their first and only priority irrespective of the validity of Vordenberg’s claims— a subject that had garnered plenty of heated debate within the last two weeks of incessant strategizing. Perry did her best to keep everyone civil with varying degrees of success while JP rarely contributed anything to these arguments, preferring to keep himself to the silence.

“Well congratulations, Lawrence; that was some first class stupidity.”

“I wasn’t asking for your approval.”

“Just my opinion...”

“Look, do you seriously want to lecture me on safety concerns right now, or did you miss the part where I just said that these people are hunting honest-to-Helsing _literal vampires?”_

“Oh no... I got that. Still doesn’t explain why you made a house call to a group of terrorists.”

Danny glared at LaF. “Wait, so they’re terrorists now?”

“You don’t know _what_ they are, Lawrence, and you sure as hell don’t know what their intentions are with Laura.”

“And that’s exactly my point! How are we going to learn anything if we just piss around in this apartment, doing nothing? We’ve been sitting on this intel for the last two weeks and all you guys want to do is bury your heads in the sand!”

Perry muttered a curse as she smeared her finger across the canvas. LaFontaine chose to ignore her. “Well as much I can appreciate your disdain for your own personal safety, going in there alone was still stupid.”

Danny folded her arms. “I was careful _,_ LaF.”

“Oh no the hell you weren’t. Strolling into company headquarters by yourself isn’t exactly a winning strategy there, captain.”

“I _wasn’t_ alone. Elsie was with me.”

“You mean the salty chick who openly despises you?”

“She doesn’t despise me.”

“Really. That’s news. So you guys are besties now? _Mazel Tov_.”

“Look,” Danny fumed, “Elsie may be a bitch, but she’s a Summer, and my sisters are loyal to a fault. There’s no way in hell she’d be selling me on this crazy if there wasn’t even the slightest ounce of truth to it. She’s _worked_ with these people. She knows what’s going on, and what’s more, she knows what Karnstein is capable of, and I’m not just going to sit back while my girlfriend’s in danger.”

“You mean your _ex_ -girlfriend...”

_“Whatever.”_

Perry reached for a brush that was resting on her palette when she accidentally knocked over a cup of water. She swore loudly as she tried to mop up the mess. JP didn’t even bother turning around.

“Okay then,” LaF continued, “so the Order’s holed up at one of the Venture properties downtown. What kinds of shiny things were they dangling in front of you?”

“Video footage... tissue samples… You name it.”

LaFontaine blinked. _“Vampire_ tissue samples?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

LaF looked mildly unnerved. “What kinds of tissue samples?”

“Besides the head of a vampire floating in a jar of formaldehyde?”

A loud _snap_ was heard in the silence. Perry was holding a paintbrush broken in half. LaF turned to look at her with a very strange expression, but Perry was still focused on her canvas.  

“How do you know it wasn’t the head of a human?” said LaFontaine more carefully.

“I think the two inch fangs sticking out of its mouth and the jet-black eyes were proof enough. I’m not screwing with you, LaF— I know what I saw, and there was _nothing_ human about it. They even had werewolf anatomy in jars: heads, claws, feet… even genitals.”

Perry winced. LaF traced a thumb very slowly across their lip. JP’s features were as hard as stone, and his fingers began to dig into the table top.

“So what exactly are they doing with these samples?”

“My guess? It’s all research and development. They're finding new ways to track down and kill these things with something more advanced than a silver bullet. Supposedly Silas has been the grounds for demonic activity dating back before this land was even settled. The Order’s had a presence here for the last couple of centuries, but they seem to be currently hell-bent on finding Karnstein.” Danny pressed her hands behind her neck as she started pacing the floor once again. “You wouldn’t believe the profile they have on this chick. She’s—”

“I’m actually more interested in hearing about the lab, thanks.”

Danny stopped her pacing and gave LaF a look. “Honestly, the lab was only a small part of what I saw. Their facilities are extensive: a lot of surveillance and monitoring systems. Hell, they had video footage of a vampire attack in Silas from over a decade ago.”

“That’s _hardly_ proof, Danny,” said Perry curtly as she stood up and moved towards the sink. Her sudden interruption briefly startled Danny while LaF just looked excessively annoyed. “You’re living in an age where videos and photographs can be edited or altered by _children_. And the only thing they're doing in that ‘super secret laboratory’ is advertising some disgusting horror funhouse.”

“Really, Perr?” said LaF, rubbing their forehead. “You’re going with a horror funhouse?”

Perry glared at LaF. “It’s a possibility.”

“So the crime scene down the hall was… what? Research?”

“This is _all_ theatrics,” said Perry hotly, turning on the sink to rinse her paintbrushes. “For heaven’s sake, I once worked on a low-budget horror movie where the prop team had to create a headless cheerleader.”

“This wasn’t theatrics,” Danny insisted. “I know what I saw, and it was real.”

“I’m sure it was,” said LaFontaine darkly. “You’ve become pals with Josef Mengele’s version of the Monster Squad.”

Danny scoffed. “So does that mean you believe me?”

“My belief in the supernatural was never in question. What I’m a _bit_ more concerned about is murder and experimentation that dangerously skirts every line of the Nuremberg Code.”

Danny started to laugh, loud and disbelievingly. “These things aren’t even _human_. They’re monsters.”

“Well _that_ isn’t speciesist. Monster is a subjective term, and as a scientist, this whole thing offends me.”

 _“Your friend has been kidnapped by a vampire,_ braintrust! A blood-sucking, head-snapping vampire! Are you _seriously_ going to argue about the ethics of killing these things while they’ve been gutting people all over Silas?!”

LaF set down their drink. “There’s a lot of unknown variables you’re loosely throwing around in that sentence.”

“We’re running out of time, LaF! Laura’s still missing! And these people are the only ones giving us answers!”

“Yeah. They’re giving us answers. Not necessarily the _correct_ ones.”

“I trust them!”

“Then you’re even dumber than I thought you were.”

“There is a 300 year old vampire potentially fang-deep in Laura right now, and—"

 _“There is no such thing as vampires!”_ Perry screamed.

The room went awkwardly silent. Perry was breathing heavily and staring daggers at Danny and LaFontaine. She leaned over the sink in an effort to compose herself, and her hands were visibly shaking as she gripped the countertop. “We just need to talk to Laura,” she whispered more calmly. “We have to find out if she’s okay. Until then, I think it would be _wildly_ inappropriate to have anything more to do with these people.”

Danny folded her arms, angry and defiant. “You’re assuming, of course, that Laura’s still alive.”

“Don’t,” said LaF, their voice a whispered warning.

“Don’t what? Give her the worst case scenario? You don’t think there’s a possibility that Karnstein whisked her to London just to terrorize Laura in some hotel room? Maybe she gets off on it: romancing beautiful girls before she _guts_ them violently in their beds.”

JP was suddenly out of his chair. “I’m done. I’ve had it. We’re getting out of here.”

“ _Oh hell…”_ said Perry right at the exact moment that LaF mumbled, _“Not this again…”_

“JP—”

“No...” he cut them off instantly before stalking over to the closet and opening the doors. He pulled out two suitcases and slammed them on the table, then grabbed another two at the back of the closet.

“Sweetie, calm down...”

“Oh I’m perfectly calm, Perry. Go and get your things. We’re booking the first flight out of here.”

“Jeep…”

 _“No—_ I _mean_ it this time! I am _sick_ to bloody death of having this argument!”

Danny was far too caught off guard to say anything. She had never seen JP this upset before. He was frantically stuffing coats and clothing into the suitcases like he was preparing to flee the coming apocalypse.

LaF stood up and slipped their hands into their pockets. “We’ve already been over this, Jeep...”

“And you _never_ listen! You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said! What the hell is it going to take for you to listen to me?!”

He angrily shoved one of the suitcases off the table. “I’m not waiting for these bastards to pull us deeper into this mess. The longer we stay here, the more likely we’re gonna find another fresh set of corpses on our doorstep.”

LaF didn’t back down. “Leaving won’t solve anything.”

“Oh the hell it won’t,” he insisted.

“Sweetie, we can’t just leave,” said Perry gently. “Fleeing Silas right now would be every bit as dangerous.”

JP sneered as he turned back to the closet. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Well I’m not willing to take it!” Perry shouted, frantically stepping in front of him to block his path.

JP stopped as Perry pressed her hands gently but firmly against his chest. It was a feeble effort to calm him down as JP was still visibly fuming. “There are people after Laura,” she continued, “and she has no idea what kind of danger she’s in. We _have_ to find her. We have to talk to her, and the best way to do that is to stay here.”

He clenched his jaw. “At what cost?” he said darkly. “Your life? LaF’s? Our—”

“...Jeep,” LaFontaine warned.

He looked over at LaF, and there was a tense moment between them that Danny couldn’t begin to try and interpret. In truth, she was still trying to play catch-up with the conversation while struggling to assess JP’s mood-swing. The whole scene was so fantastically and wildly out-of-character, Danny wondered if the three of them weren’t possessed.

“We can’t be involved,” he muttered, breaking the silence.

“We’re already are,” LaF replied. “All of us are neck-deep in the danger here, Jeep, and even if we weren’t, the universe kind of decided we were when Hollis moved into our apartment building and collectively stole each of our hearts.”

Their words seemed to make him pause for a moment. “That doesn’t matter anymore.”

“So Laura’s expendable?”       

“Of course she isn’t expendable! But more is at risk here than Laura’s life!” He took a deep breath and dragged a hand through his hair. “Look, I _love_ Laura. We all do. But I have to think of our future right now, and Perry is…” he paused, “You and Perry are all that I have.”

He turned to Perry, who seemed on the verge of tears, and gave her a somber look. “I can’t risk losing either of you,” he whispered. “Please... I’m begging you. Let’s just go.”

LaF looked visibly pained, but stood firm. “You know what our answer is, Jeep.”

Perry opened her mouth as if wanting to say something, but the words faltered in her throat.

JP looked unhappily between the two of them, a soft frown forming on his face. It was a look of defeat: more tired than angry. “I didn’t even make a dent, did I?”

He shook his head as he glared out the window, and his features hardened to stone once again. “Well...I’m late for work. If any more murderers turn up, feel free to let them know where they can find me.”

He stalked past LaF and Perry and grabbed his satchel, ignoring Perry’s outstretched hand towards him. Moving to the door, he stopped directly in front of Danny, and the two of them coldly made eye contact.

To Danny’s recollection, it was the first time he’d ever approached her with anything less than a friendly smile. Obviously they were past the fine veneer of a “friendly” acquaintance as small and superficial as it was.

“This is going to end badly,” he said with a bleak expression. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. If you really loved Laura like you say you do, you’ll let this go before it ends up getting you both killed.”

Danny stared back at him, arms folded across her chest, never one to be intimidated by a man. “I’m a lot of things, Jeep, but I’m glad I can safely say that no one’s ever accused me of being a coward.”

JP didn’t respond. His eyes only narrowed, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk. Their staring game continued for another tense moment before he walked out the door and slammed it shut.

The room fell silent. It was almost deafening. LaF and Perry refused to look at each other. The former was as livid as Danny could ever remember them; the latter looked like she was still on the verge of tears.

“Has it ever occurred to anyone,” said LaFontaine pointedly, “that Laura might already know?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean have you considered the very _real_ possibility that Hollis already knows that Karnstein’s a killer?”

Danny looked at LaF like they'd just grown two heads. “You can’t seriously be suggesting that.”

“Why not? I think it’s a pretty valid question.”

“LaF...” said Perry darkly.

Danny let out a disgusted laugh. “You think Hollis, of _all_ people, would knowingly be dating a murderer?”

LaFontaine shrugged. “It's not impossible...”

“No, Danny’s right. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Who’s being ridiculous? Or do you not remember the discussion we had with Laura about ‘moral ambiguities’? You know... where she was stressing about the fact that her entire world-view was subverted and she was starting to question everything? _‘Help me, you guys! What do I do when someone I know did something terrible and I’m not as conflicted about it as I should be!’_ Is any of this ringing a bell?”  

Perry looked concerned. “That was completely different...”

“Why, Perr? _Why_ is it different? Or did you _also_ forget that Laura previously described Karnstein as someone who’s— and I quote— _‘kind of dangerous’?”_

“What in the heck are you talking about?” said Danny. “When was this?! What did she say?”

“Dangerous for Laura is a girl in leather pants! Not a—”

“...A _what,_ Perr!?” LaF snapped. “What _is_ she?”

Perry face was almost as red as her hair as she threw her brushes against the wall. Danny stepped back in visible shock, and LaFontaine cringed like they’d been slapped.

They both watched as Perry stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door and leaving them both to the silence.

Danny awkwardly looked over at LaF, who was already gathering the brushes off of the floor.

“Look,” said Danny calmly, “let’s bring this down, okay? I didn’t come here to start an argument with you guys.”

“Boo for you, Lawrence,” LaFontaine mumbled as they set Perry’s brushes down on her easel.

“Come on, LaF, this is beyond our petty bickering. We _both_ know that Laura is in serious danger here. You saw that apartment, and you _know_ I’m going to do anything and everything I can to make sure she’s safe.”

LaF let out a sigh as they turned back to Danny. “So what if she _doesn’t_ need you, Lawrence? What if she’s happy with Karnstein and doing just fine without you? Whatever’s gone on, she’s never asked any of us to rescue her.”

Danny didn’t accept that. “So you’re fine with her seeing a killer?”

“I’m fine with Laura making her own decisions. A lot of people in this world can be labeled as killers, and believe it or not, there are people who still love them. Soldiers, officers, government agents, doctors, some drunk kid who hits a family on New Year’s Eve… Heck, there are people currently embroiled in political conflicts that have grown up with violence all their lives. Do you really want to question whether or not they deserve companionship? Does the thought of that make you uncomfortable? I don’t know who Karnstein is or what the details of her story are, but I’m not going to pass judgement if Laura loves her.”

Danny bit her cheek. “We’re not arguing about morality, LaF. This is _Laura_ we’re talking about here. Sure, she may be silly and a little naive at times, but—”

“No. That’s just it. She _isn’t_ naive.” LaF stared at Danny and slowly shook their head. “How is it even possible that you know so little about her? Having compassion for others doesn’t make Laura gullible, and choosing to love someone who’s flawed doesn’t make her naivé. Laura’s the kind of good we should all be striving for. Being cynical isn’t doing this world any favors.”     

“Yeah, that’s sweet. But I think you’re forgetting the part where Karnstein is actually a psychotic vampire.”

“Fine...” said LaF, throwing their hands in the air. “Then let’s pretend Laura’s dating a vampire. Is this something we need to be concerned about beyond the moderate panic that things could get out of hand if they start necking?"

Danny was ready to scream. “ _Beyond_ dating a vampire? Is drinking blood as a holy terror just not enough for you!?”

LaF shrugged their shoulders. “Again... it sounds kinda speciesist. You’re assuming all vampires are evil.”

“I can’t even believe we’re having this discussion. I can’t believe you’re actually defending this girl.”

“I never said I was, but you’re assigning moral judgment on a lot of people in an effed up situation.”

“Moral judgment? About Karnstein _slaughtering_ people across the hall from Laura’s front door?”

“Do you know who they were? Do you know why they were here, apart from the answers that Vordenberg’s been feeding you? Because strangers keeping surveillance on Laura’s apartment seems the _teensiest_ bit threatening to me. Maybe Karnstein wanted to send a message to whoever or whatever’s been targeting Laura all of this time.”

Danny was livid. “And that justifies killing everyone and painting the walls with their blood?”

“Who said I was justifying anything? What I’m doing is being _objective_. I recognize that there’s always two sides to a conflict, and a personal bias isn’t going to help this situation. I don’t know these people and I _especially_ don’t know what their relationship to Karnstein is. You obviously have a personal interest in this, and I also get that you have a hero complex. It's why I’m willing to let you barge into our home and listen to you bitch about this stuff.”

Danny balled her fists in irritation. “Objectivity is going to get you killed.”

“But what a way to go,” said LaF sarcastically. “I’m sure it beats monkeys ripping my face off.”

They both heard a buzz coming from LaFontaine's pocket. LaF pulled out their phone to check the screen. It was probably JP, writing some lengthy text as an apology, or—

“Holy fuck, it’s Laura…”

 _“What?!?”_ Danny gasped.

Perry violently slammed the door back open and quickly rushed over to LaFontaine. “What what?! Is it Laura?! What did she say?” Perry screeched as Danny practically leapt over the couch.

“She just said  _‘I’m back!!!!!’_ with like five exclamation points. I think that’s Hollis-speak for ‘Life is wonderful and I need to hug you as hard as I can.’”

Danny nearly barreled into LaFontaine’s shoulder in a rush to confirm that Laura was seriously texting them. “Where is she?” Danny rambled. “Are you texting? Are you responding?!”

“Calm down. I just sent her a response.”

Danny looked down at the screen.

 **LaF** : _Welcome back, frosh! Did someone have a fun trip?_

Danny stared at LaF with a horrified expression. “What in the hell kind of text message was _that?!”_

“What? It’s a simple greeting.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? You can’t just—”

But Laura had already responded:

 **Laura:** _OMG IT WAS FREAKING INCREDIBLE!_

 **Laura:** _I have so much to tell you guys, like I don’t even know where to begin_ …

 **Laura:** _But my phone’s almost dead and I need you to tell me the name of that tasty cheese JP found at that weird circus market we went to._

LaF looked up at Perry. “Does that sound ‘happy’ enough to you?”

Perry scowled at LaF. “We still don’t know if she’s safe.”  

“Give me the phone,” said Danny. “We have to call her.  _Right now._ We can’t waste any more time with this crap."

She tried to reach for LaFontaine’s phone, but LaF quickly swatted her hand away. “Keep your pants on, Lawrence. I’m not giving you my phone.”

“Do you want me to take it from you, Frankenstein?”

“You lay so much as a hand on me, Lawrence, and you’re _really_ going to regret it...”

“Oh, would you both stop acting like—”

LaF’s phone buzzed again.

 **Laura:** _Oh, incidentally_

 **Laura:** _My 10.5?_

 **Laura:** _She’s definitely been upgraded to an 11_

 **Laura:** =D =D =D

LaFontaine tried to hide their smirk. “Looks like someone got their freak on with the undead _.”_

Perry rolled her eyes. “That’s hardly appropriate, LaFontaine.”

“What? She just upgraded Karnstein to an 11.”

Danny was furious. “Would you just give me the fucking phone so we can find out where in the hell she is?!”

“Holy freak, Danny, can you calm the hell down? She’s texting us, so she obviously isn’t dead.”

“She might be if you don’t give me your damn phone already!”

“Just stop it! Right now!” said Perry loudly. “We can’t just call Laura and start screaming her ear off or we’re really going to freak the poor girl out!”

“Oh right, because we _definitely_ don’t want to overreact while Laura’s snuggling up to a murdering psychopath!”

“Would you _shut up?”_ said LaF. “We haven’t even spoken to her."

“Then call her!”

“I’m calling her!”

_“Then do it!”_

LaF angrily pressed Laura’s contact into their phone while glaring at Danny the entire time. They held the phone up to their ear and slapped Danny’s hand away when she made a desperate grab for it again.

 _“Put it on speaker!”_ Danny quietly hissed.

LaF shook their head, maintaining their distance.

“I swear, if you—”

“Frosh!” said LaF enthusiastically, though their expression remained perfectly stoic.

 _“LaF!”_ Laura squealed. _“Oh my gosh! It’s so good to hear from you!”_

“Same goes to you, you saucy minx. Are you alone right now? Am I interrupting anything?”

_“No, you’re fine! I’m alone and—”_

The call disconnected.

“What the hell did you just do!?” Danny shouted angrily.

“I didn’t do anything, you lummox!” LaF tried calling Laura’s number again, but it just went straight to voicemail.

“Perfect,” Perry fumed. “She just told you her battery was low. Now we have no idea where she is.”

“Sure we do,” said LaF. “Didn’t you hear what she said? She asked for the name of that cheese JP liked.”

Danny had her phone out and was trying to call Laura herself. “How in the heck is that supposed to help us find her?”

“The cheese was exclusive to a market near Sommer’s Canyon— an old store covered in vintage circus decor. We stopped there on our way to a BBQ last summer. It’s more than likely that Laura could be shopping there.”

“What’s she doing at the base of the canyon?” Perry asked.

“Beats me. Maybe it’s close to where Karnstein lives.”

Danny studied the texts on LaFontaine’s phone. “Do you remember how to get there?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then we need to go,” said Danny quickly. “We have to get there as soon as possible.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said LaF, stepping back. “Let’s sit down and discuss this for a second—”

“There’s nothing to discuss. We don’t know how long she’s going to be there for or what Karnstein’s still planning on doing with her.”

“Laura just said she’s alone, you eejit. If you show up in a rage with all that righteous indignation, it’s only going to make things worse.”

“I’m not scared of Karnstein,” Danny insisted. “If we call Elsie now, we could have backup there in twenty minutes.”

LaF looked at Danny with an incredulous expression. “Els— Are you out of your freaking _mind?_ There’s no way in hell I’m getting Vordenberg’s people involved in this."

“They’re the only ones equipped to take down a vampire,” Danny insisted.

“Laura _isn’t_ a vampire, and this isn’t some sting operation. I don’t want them going anywhere _near_ her.”

“It’s Karnstein we should be worrying about— not Elsie or the Order!”

“I think those _heads_ they have floating in jars might disagree with you...”

“Would you both just _stop,”_ said Perry, exasperated. “The longer we sit here arguing, the more time is being wasted.”

“I agree,” said Danny. “Let’s get in the car and head up there. Laura needs to know what’s going on.”

LaF bit their cheek. “Fine,” they said sharply. “Lawrence, you’re staying here with Perry.”

 _“What?”_ said Danny loudly.

“Oh, no,” Perry argued. “You are _not_ going up there alone, LaFontaine.”

LaF grabbed their coat out of the suitcase on the table. “I’m sorry, but somebody needs to stay behind. What if Laura’s headed here right at this very moment?”

“Then Perry can stay and wait for her. I’m the one with the freaking car.”

LaF looked at Danny. “Then give me your car keys.”

“Screw you! There’s no way you’re leaving without me!”

“It isn’t safe for either of you to be going,” Perry insisted. “Why don’t we just wait for Laura to call us back?”

LaF and Danny stared icily at each other, seemingly on the verge of trading punches. LaF turned to Perry. “Fine. I’m going with Lawrence. Text Jeep and tell him that Laura’s back in town. If he starts to freak out, you know the drill. I don’t want him leaving the bookstore unless something inevitably goes south. If Hollis shows up here, call me immediately, and if Karnstein’s with her, just play it cool. Don’t whip out the stakes and the garlic on her, okay? I don’t think that vampires appreciate that.”

Perry clenched her jaw. “There’s no—”

“...I _know_ there it isn’t. But just be careful for me, okay?”

Perry sighed.

“And you,” said LaF, turning back at Danny. “You’d better keep that red-hot temper in check. You don’t get to play the card of a jealous lover right now. Keep it buried or I'll smother you with your own scarf. You hear me, Lawrence?”

Danny’s eyes narrowed in anger. “I hear you loud and clear.”

“Good. Then let’s go. If we take the east overpass, we can be there in less than fifteen minutes.”

LaF walked out the door, wrapping a scarf around their neck as Danny followed closely behind. Perry watched them leave with evident anxiety while tucking a nervous arm around her stomach.

Neither LaF nor Perry had noticed the text Danny sent while they were busy discussing contingency plans.

Danny only hoped that Elsie would get the message before they lost Laura for good this time.   

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr under the username "vampire-chunks"


End file.
